


We're all a little messed up

by traintowoosan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, CHARACTER DEATH in Chp 4, Coming of Age, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Like REALLYYYYYY SLOW, M/M, Married!Seongjoong, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Premarital Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Religious families, Slow Burn, Unsafe Sex, Yungi are twins, young family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintowoosan/pseuds/traintowoosan
Summary: Wooyoung and San had loved each other for all their lives. But their relationship has always been on the rocks because of their bad habits. Instead of working through it, San disappears one day, leaving behind a broken-hearted—and expecting—Wooyoung.Just as swift as he left, San suddenly comes back after two years and Wooyoung is about to learn that some love are just meant to stay.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 19
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at summaries but I hope you'll give this a chance. I've been an avid reader of this community for years so just thought of doing what I can to contribute <3
> 
> Disclaimer: this is my first chaptered fic so please don't expect much :(( Also my english vocabulary is pretty limited so if you see repeated words or phrases just look away~
> 
> This story is very much centralised on mpreg so if that's not your cup of tea, don't say I didn't warn you. Also, this work is heavily inspired by a young adult novel called How To Love.
> 
> UPDATE: I pretty much edited the whole story to change the characters I'm sorry I'm so indecisive but my heart hurts hurting any of the members so I just used an OC instead hehe  
> Anyways the plot is all still the same, just the names.

The last thing Wooyoung expects to see on a Friday morning was to find Choi San in all his glory, standing in front of a ramen machine, in the convenience store not 10 minutes from his own home, gazing deep into it as if the noodles are going to cook faster that way.

He comes to a halt and stares as if he’s seeing a ghost. Come to think of it, that’s not too far from the truth either. Wooyoung was due at class in 20 minutes so he dropped by to get some coffee and one of those biscuits Haneul loves so much when he sees _him_. 

_‘I guess I can live without coffee for a day’,_ he thought to himself _._ But before he could make what he calls a swift exit out of the store, a voice calls out to him. 

“Hey Woo.” And just like everything when it comes to Choi San, Wooyoung stops and turns.

When he faces him, it’s like San’s not even a little surprised. _Like he knew I’d be here at this time._ Wooyoung blinks once he gets a good look at him. His hair now jet black as opposed to the light brown he used to sport before leaving. But other than that, San looks almost exactly the same. _As if he never left at all_

“Hi, San,” he starts slowly, trying to calm the roaring in his heart. It suddenly occurs to Wooyoung how unfair it is that even after all this time, San shows up all gorgeous and glowing to find him looking like a walking trash can in his sweats and faded t-shirt. His washed out dirty blonde hair, a sad mop on top of his head. Before he even has time to be fully embarrassed, San suddenly leans forward and hugs Wooyoung tight. 

The first thing he notices is that the older smells the same, like the lemongrass soap he’s so obsessed with and fresh coffee. “I—I didn’t know you were back,” Wooyoung tries, after they broke apart.

“I just got back yesterday,” San says. “I haven’t actually been anywhere yet.” He smiles softly, and Wooyoung’s traitorous heart can’t seem to sit still. “I guess I’m gonna surprise a lot of people by coming back.”

Wooyoung just can’t help himself when he snaps, “You think?” he stops before saying anything more.

San stops smiling. “Yeah, I—I think.” he says.

“Of course you do,” Wooyoung stops at that. Mainly because he just couldn’t come up with anything better to say, which is how it always was with Choi San. Back when they used to work together, Wooyoung was always forgetting orders and mixing up checks. He was truly the bane of his existence. Then, and always.

“My mom told me about…..” he says after a while, nervously. “Your—our…..”

Wooyoung looks on amusedly at the taller being a stuttering mess. He imagines just leaving him to pick his words until the next eternity, but in the end the younger breaks first. “Haneul,” he stares at San’s face, gauging his expression. “Her name is Haneul.” he wonders what else Hyejin had told him, since she never really had anything to say in Wooyoung’s presence. Especially thinking of him as the whore that tainted his faithful Catholic son.

“Yeah. I heard.” San looks so uncomfortable, as if he’s waiting for something to happen. For Wooyoung to just tell him— _Welcome back, love, how was your trip? Oh by the way, we made a baby!—_ but Wooyoung refuses to say anything in return. ‘ _Let him be the one wondering for once’._ San shifts awkwardly before starting again, “Look, Woo, I—”

He ignores the nickname and cuts him off, “Well, it’s good to run into you like this. But I should probably go get that coffee I was here for, or like just go-” he stops and turns to him properly. “San, I really gotta go,”

San’s jaw twitches, the kind of thing you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t spent your entire adolescence staring at that very jaw. “Wooyoung-ah…”

“Oh no you don’t get to do that,” he is not going to make it easy for him. Not when he’s the one to disappear without even saying _Goodbye, see you later, I love you._ Not when he just upped and _left._

“Whatever you’re going to tell me, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. It all turned out for the better, right?” Wooyoung tries a light-hearted tone for him.

“No, it didn’t.” San gazes right at Wooyoung and it’s then he suddenly remembers how he looked like when he was nine, when he was twelve, and when he was seventeen. Him and San may only be a couple for about a year before he left, but he was the apple of Wooyoung’s eye for years and years before that. He is struck with the thought that San would’ve left with more than half of him even if they’d never became a couple at all.

Wooyoung shrugs and starts walking around the biscuits section to get one for his daughter. He pretty much gives up on the coffee at this point. If he’s late to his statistics lecture, at least he could use this as an excuse, knowing how much his professor adores Haneul. He softly shakes his head, “Sure, it did.”

“Come on, Woo.” San leans back towards the counter where the ramen machine was, as if he was shoved. “Don’t blow me off please.”

He scoffs louder than he intends, “Don’t blow _you_ off?” he hates himself for letting San know that he still thinks about him, that he still cares. “Everyone thought you were dead in an alley somewhere, San-ah. _I_ thought you were dead in an alley somewhere. So _maybe_ I’m not the best person to talk to about feeling like you’re getting blown off.”

Wooyoung feels so nasty and mean. And no matter how warranted his anger is, when he sees the look on the older’s face, the way he looks so helpless, his heart breaks all over again. “Sannie, don’t do that,” he orders. “It’s not fair.”

“I’m not,” San shakes his head, looking down. Most probably shocked at the nickname. When he’s recovered he looks up again, “I’m not.”

Wooyoung didn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “San, just—”

“You look really good, Wooyoung-ah”

The younger’s eyes widened at the sudden statement. This whole situation is getting more and more absurd that Wooyoung couldn’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Shut up.” he tries keeping his voice straight.

“What? You do,” the older seems to know that Wooyoung was at his limit with this conversation, so he adds, “Am I going to see you around?”

“Depends,” Wooyoung challenges. “Are you gonna _be_ around?”

San nods furiously, “Yeah, I will.”

Woooyoung shrugs again for the nth time, trying to act as if he wasn’t 5 seconds away from a mental breakdown, putting his shaky hands behind his back as he speaks, “Well, I live here.”

“And I’d like to meet the baby,” San says, before nervously adding “If you’ll let me of course.”

“I guess,” _She is half yours._ “I mean, she lives here too, so.” Wooyoung can act nonchalant as much as he wants but he knows Choi San sees right through him. That’s just the way it’s always been. Oh how he detests that, hates the fact that he just got used to him being gone before San saunters into his life again like nothing ever happened. But in true Jung Wooyoung fashion, he keeps his mouth shut and wills the conversation to end soon so he doesn’t go into cardiac arrest.

Wooyoung was increasingly aware of other people in that aisle, all normal shoppers whose life didn’t take a total 180 turn on a random Friday morning. The blond envies them so much. He needs to leave now if he wants to keep even a crumble of sanity left, “Bye, Choi San.”

“See you, Jung Wooyoung.” and if Wooyoung didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a promise.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


“Choi San came back?” Wooyoung bursts into his house a few hours ahead of schedule, livid, choosing to skip his lectures altogether as he was in no state to attend them anyway. He drove back with such shaky hands he almost got run over 3 times. God knows how that man still has such an effect on him even after years.

Seonghwa, who was cutting vegetables for their lunch, stops abruptly, “ _What?_ ” the knife clangs as it falls into the sink in his shock at the younger’s tone. He whispers a silent prayer and turns back to Wooyoung. “Did you skip your classes?”

“Hyung, answer me.” Haneul is sitting in her high chair and perks up at Wooyoung’s voice, quickly raising her hand to be picked up. “Mama!” she wails. He tucks her into the curve of his body and starts pacing around anxiously. “Baby, I’m sorry. I wasn’t yelling at you.”

Wooyoung returns his attention to Seonghwa, who was looking back at him attentively. “Choi San,” he repeats, as if there is another Choi San he could possibly be talking about, “In the convenience store down the corner, making ramen.”

“What flavour?”

“Excuse me?” Wooyoung blinked. “What _flavour_ ? _”_

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“How the hell does that matter?”

“Watch it,” Seonghwa reminds him, pointing to the baby with his head. Wooyoung looks guiltily at Haneul. He really wouldn’t be surprised if he gets a call from her preschool one day telling him his daughter keeps saying the snack is shitty.

“Sorry,” he mutters, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Your mommy’s foul-mouthed.”

Seonghwa sighs before repeating, “Wooyoung, did you skip your class?”, a dangerous tilt in his tone. Wooyoung was about to give him a piece of his mind on how his classes are the least of his concerns at this moment when his brother saunters into the kitchen, their father close behind.

“Hey, hyung,” Jongho says, holding up a light pink milk carton. “Got the strawberry milk you always wanted. Also saw Yunho at the gym a while ago.”

Wooyoung tries not to point out that the last time he ever said he wanted that milk was back in his second trimester. He also ignores the reference to his boyfriend—as if he doesn’t know. 

“Did you know San is home?” he asks instead. His tone was bordering hysterical but he feigns composure. Not that he was fooling anyone. Wooyoung bounces Haneul on his hip and takes a deep breath, trying to contain the overflow. “Did you?”

“No,” Jongho replies immediately, but suddenly he won’t catch Wooyoung’s eyes. Instead, choosing to stare at the insides of the refrigerator as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Wooyoung is breathless with anger. He seriously wants to smash something right this moment. Jongho continues frowning at the contents in the fridge before finally saying, “Hyung, did you finish all of my jam?”

“Jongho, I am going to ask you one more time-”

“What do you want?” he asks irritatedly. “I didn’t exactly _know_ \- _”_

“Jongho!” 

“That’s quite enough,” Hongjoong lets out firmly, getting in between them like they were kids again and not twenty-one and nineteen year olds respectively, like Wooyoung’s not standing there holding a child of his own. Wooyoung turns towards the older. Hongjoong and San’s father had been friends since they were children. They introduced each other to their respective partners and are even godfathers to each other’s sons. There was no way in god’s green earth that Choi San so much as step a foot into Ulsan without the older hearing of it. 

“What about you?” Wooyoung demands. “You must have known.”

He nods. “Yes, I did.” One thing about his father is that he never lies. 

Wooyoung bites back a scoff and looks at him with surprise. “And you didn’t think to _tell_ me?”

The older doesn’t reply for a minute. Seemingly trying to answer how he deems fit. “No, I didn’t.” he says finally.

He should’ve known this would happen. None of this is even new information, but it still hits like a truck. “And why not?” Wooyoung tries his best to keep his voice steady but he can hear it breaking, letting out the question sadder than he intends. In his arms, Haneul squirms uncomfortably.

“Wooyoungie—”

“Seonghwa hyung, _please_ don’t,” he breathes out desperately. “Not now.”

“I didn’t tell you,” Hongjoong lets out slowly, sighing before speaking, “because I was hoping he won’t stay.”

_Well that's just splendid._

All three of them are looking at Wooyoung, watchful of his expression. Seonghwa tries again, “Woo-”

“Jam’s behind the milk,” he tells them finally, before going upstairs to take Haneul for her nap.


	2. Chapter 2 - Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little bit more angsty 😬😬 (giggles) But fret not, it's only the beginning 
> 
> Also this is the style I'm going for; every chapter would be alternating between the past and present. Do let me know if this confuses you or anything. I'll definitely change it if it is.
> 
> Without further due, enjoy the chapter! ^^
> 
> UPDATE: Please read the updates in the first chapter

**3 years ago,**

“Dude you really need a haircut,” Daehyun told him, filling the comfortable silence between them. They were both lying in Wooyoung’s room after an exhausting round of makeshift poker, in which Daehyun swore the younger was cheating before calling it quits when he lost for the eighth time.

“You think? I haven’t really noticed it’s gotten long.” he replied, hands unconsciously going to touch his locks.

Daehyun nodded, “We should totally get it dyed. Remember that phase when you wanted silver hair? You’d totally pull it off!” That’s probably true. But Hongjoong would castrate him if he dares to dye even a single strand of his hair.

At the hesitant look in Wooyoung’s eyes, he added “Come on, Woo. You don’t even have to do anything. I’ll do it all. You just lay back and—”

“Boys, could you come down please? Junho and Hyejin will be here any minute.” Seonghwa’s voice looms into their room.

When they both get down, his stepfather added, “Help me set the table will you?” in Wooyoung’s direction and looking at the other boy, “Are you staying for dinner, Daehyun?” 

Daehyun frowned, taking a look at the clock on their dining room wall. “I should probably get going. Thanks for the offer though.” His parents were always keeping him on a tight leash. Especially after they just found a cigarette pack in the trashcan in his room,  _ again _ . 

“Alright then,” Seonghwa smiled at him before turning back to his stepson, “Woo, honey, make sure you set an extra place, okay? San is coming too.”

Right away, Wooyoung and Daehyun looked at each other, eyes going wide. “I can stay,” the older boy blurted out immediately, straightening his spine. “I’ll call my...I’ll definitely stay.”

Seonghwa smirked, “Okay then.”

When the older went to the kitchen, Wooyoung laughed so hard he almost dropped the plates. “You are  _ so _ obvious.” 

“Shut up, loser.”

  
  
  
  


The Chois were Wooyoung’s parent’s closest friends and business partners in the restaurant, where all of the kids worked, since they were just fresh graduates. Hyejin went to college with Hongjoong and introduced him to Wooyoung and Jongho’s mom. After their mother passed away from heart failure when they were kids, Hongjoong was a mess and neglected his children. The Chois once again stepped in by hiring Seonghwa to move in with them, unknowingly also finding Hongjoong his second partner much like they did the first. A little under two decades later, they still came for dinner often.  _ Not  _ as often though, with their son.

Sure enough, when the doorbell rang a few moments later, San skulked in behind his parents, donning a simple black t-shirt and jeans, light brown hair tucked in a cap. Around his neck was the tiny mountain pendant he never goes without. 

“San,” Hongjoong called out for him. “I have something I want you to listen to. Come with me.”

The younger hugged Seonghwa and simply nodded at Hongjoong, following him out into the living room where the stereo was. San was his godson. He and Wooyoung grew up in this house together; both having learnt to play the piano with the older man.

“Hey Woo,” he said as he passed by. Wooyoung could distinctively smell the faint coffee scent on him, another feature the older never goes without. 

He swallows, heartbeat slowly picking up. “Hi.”

San was a year ahead of Wooyoung and Daehyun in school. He was graduating this year and tended the bar at the restaurant. The older showed up to class whenever he felt like it and ignored Wooyoung, for the most part. To be fair Wooyoung didn’t think he did it with a particular malicious intent. It’s just the way things are sometimes; like one would ignore a message on the side of a building you pass by everyday, Wooyoung was simply blended into the scenery, invisible to the naked eye.

Daehyun, though. It’s almost impossible to ignore Daehyun.

“Hey Sannie.” he called out to him. Wooyoung noticed his eye sparkling the entire time he was staring at the other. He smiled, “Long time no see.” 

_ Sannie? _

Before he could comprehend the oddness of the situation, San stopped in front of them both and looked at Daehyun with interest. The latter was still smiling seductively. Wooyoung watched them carefully. They knew each other for sure, from any number of family parties and birthdays. They passed by each other in the hallways at school. They weren’t friends though, which was why he was so surprised when San grinned back, his dimples popping out,

“No kidding, it’s been a while.” 

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


“Are we seriously doing this?” Wooyoung asked for the nth time. “You know my dad would kill me when he finds out.”

Daehyun rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Dude, would you just chill? I did not spend this much on these for us to not use it.” 

They were sitting on the bed in Daehyun’s bedroom. Both hands holding each a silver hair dye and another a pink one. Wooyoung relentlessly tried to convince the older that this was a bad idea but Daehyun being Daehyun, acted like he didn’t hear him. 

“We’ll start with a haircut first. Ahh I’m so excited!”

“Can’t say I share the same feeling.” Daehyun rolled his eyes.

“You’ll want to kiss me when this is over I just know it.” 

Wooyoung’s face wrinkled in disgust. No, he would never want to kiss Daehyun voluntarily for any reason. Thank you very much. Not because he was unattractive,  _ god  _ no. In fact, it was the exact contrary. Kim Daehyun was the epitome of perfection. He’s the one with the cool, older friends, the one turning heads at parties, the one with the neverending gorgeous wardrobe. And Wooyoung was just his wallflower best friend.

“Wait, I gotta get all the scissors and shit from downstairs. Could you try to find some hair clips? It’s here somewhere,” the older waved his hand vaguely. Wooyoung simply nodded distractedly, eyes focused on his phone before he heard the door click shut and he was alone.

The younger boy stood up from the bed and began rummaging through the mess on Daehyun’s dresser, in search of the clips. He tried the drawer and started digging all over when his fingers curled around a tarnished, mountain pendant on a thin chain that he recognized immediately as Choi San’s.

Wooyoung blinked in surprise. He swallowed and stood there flabbergasted. Finally, after not moving for god knows how long, he went back to the bed, his earlier intention of finding the hair clips completely forgotten. His hands are still clasped tightly on the dull silver chain, surely leaving marks. The younger heard Daehyun’s muffled voice talking to his mother getting louder, signalling he was getting closer to the room. Not long later, the older bursts into the room, hands full of various barber tools. 

“Hey, mom is asking if you want some muffins. Between you and me though, I’d say they’re about 10% edible.”

“Don’t tell him that!” his mom yelled from the kitchen. 

“It’s the truth!” he yelled back cheekily, before closing the door and turning towards the younger. His smile dropped when he saw the expression on Wooyoung’s face. “What?”

Wooyoung held the necklace out in front of him like it was something poisonous, the tiny mountain pendant swinging left and right before coming to a stop. “Did you steal this?” he demanded, voice going shrill.

Daehyun’s whole expression changed in a way Wooyoung’s never seen before, he glared at him, almost accusingly. “Were you going through my stuff?” he asked.

“Was I  _ what _ ?” the younger was startled. Wooyoung and Daehyun had known each other since the first day of middle school. They went through each other’s stuff all the time. It’s never been an issue before, until now it seemed. “I was looking for clips. You  _ asked  _ me to.”

The older blinked. “Oh,” he said, and just like that he looked normal again. “I found some downstairs. Here.” he dropped some black coloured hair clips in the space between them. 

Wooyoung put the necklace in the bed next to the clips. Daehyun quickly took it back, holding it out of sight. “So?” the younger prodded. “Did you steal it?”

“Did I steal it?” he repeated. “What do you think? I’m some sort of freaky klepto?”

“Oh, like you’ve never stolen anything before.” 

Daehyun tilts his head as if saying,  _ touché _ . “I stole those hair dyes, actually,” he admitted.

“ _ What _ ?” Wooyoung blurts, “You literally  _ just  _ complaint how we shouldn’t waste it cause you spent so much on them.”

“So much energy, yes. Not a single penny though,” he says, voice completely void of remorse.

Oh for goodness sake, Wooyoung leant back to lay on the bed. He sighed, “Dude, you gotta knock that off.”

“I know,” Daehyun said, moving to lay down beside him. Neither of them said anything for a minute.

“Daehyun-ah,” Wooyoung starts eventually, trying to keep his voice even, not wanting to sound slightly as hysterical as he feels. They’ve been best friends since they were 12 after all. “Where did you get that necklace?”

Daehyun sighed defeatedly, waving a white flag. “I didn’t steal it.” he said. 

Wooyoung started feeling lightheaded, dizzy even though he was already laying down. “I didn’t think so,” he told him, deep down he realised it was true. “He gave it to you?”

The older nodded. He leant onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow to look eye to eye with Wooyoung. “I was going to tell you, I swear,” he said. “I just….didn’t know how.”

Wooyoung pushed the heels of his hand into his eyes and sighed. “Choi San gave you his necklace. His mountain pendant necklace,” he repeated. The absurdity of it almost made him crack up laughing. “Since when were you hanging out with  _ Choi San  _ anyway?”

There was an edge to his voice but Daehyun simply shrugged. “Few weeks?”

“A few  _ weeks _ ?”

“Three?”

“ _ Three _ ?” he sat up, feeling very much like he wanted to empty the contents of his stomach on this very bed. All breath whooshed out of him right at that moment. “And we’re only talking about this  _ now _ ?” 

“Oh come on, Youngie,” he said, getting up himself. Looking at the younger with challenge, “As if you’re the easiest person in the world to tell things to. Especially this.”

Wooyoung couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The audacity to turn this towards him like it’s his fault. He scoffed, “That’s not true. Now that’s just unfair that-”

“I’m sorry,” the older blurted out immediately. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned it to you.”

“Should have  _ mentioned  _ it to me?”

“Woo, can you  _ please  _ stop repeating everything I say?”

“I’m not rep—” he caught himself just in time. “Daehyun this is not just some random person, this is Choi San.”

“What do you wanna know?”

_ What did I want to know?  _ He stared at him, openmouthed. Wooyoung felt, with some panic, that he might be about to burst into tears.

“Come on, Woo.” the older said softly, nudging him in the knees. He couldn’t stand having people mad at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Not you.”

Wooyoung quickly turned his head away, blinking away some wetness in his eyes in the process. He felt so so stupid for getting so worked out over something like this. “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he told the older boy. “I’m just…...looking.”

“Stop. We’re just hanging out. He’s friends with Minsoo. I saw him once where Minsoo worked and he just asked if I wanted to, you know….hang.”

Wooyoung kept silent. He doesn’t trust himself to not start shedding tears if he started speaking now. Suddenly Daehyun looked at him a little more closely, like a thought was just occurring to him. “You’re not like, really upset, are you?” he asked. “I mean I know we always joke about how hot he is and stuff, but you don’t actually like….I mean if you really care—“

“I  _ don’t, _ ” he protested immediately, like if he could deliver the lie with more emphasis, it would somehow be true. In the back of his head the younger knew Daehyun was right; Wooyoung was famous for keeping his emotions to himself. If even Daehyun, the person closest to him, couldn’t realise how  _ hugely _ Wooyoung felt whatever it was he felt for San, then chances are it was his fault for never letting it on.

It was obviously too late to tell Daehyun now, though. Not when San had already chosen him. Not if they’d already chosen each other. The only thing to do now was protect himself with the lie.

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung continued, but even to his own ears his voice was strained. “You guys should do whatever makes you happy.” He should’ve probably kept going. Asked him when the wedding was, offered to bake the cake, maybe—but thank god their conversation was cut short when Mrs. Kim entered the room.

“Wooyoung, do you want the muffins or not?” she asked, sounding rather impatient. He wondered how much of it she heard. 

“Mom, I told you we don’t want it,” Daehyun answered for him, then turning to look at the younger expectantly. But Wooyoung had already begun getting up, straightening the wrinkles on his shirt in an attempt to look calm.

“I want them,” he didn’t, really. But anything to escape this situation right now. “I’m coming.” he said, leaving Daehyun behind.

In the end, he never did get his hair dyed.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


Wooyoung was reading on his bed when his phone rang. He caught sight of the caller and hesitated to pick up. The number hadn’t appeared on the caller ID for about two weeks. Before he could overthink it, he answered the call. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve called you sooner.” was the first thing Daehyun said after he picked up.

“It’s okay. I know you’re busy.” Wooyoung replied. Truthfully though, it sucked a little. It was the end of summer. They were starting their second to last year of high school soon, and yet Wooyoung spent most of his time alone. “I get it.”

“No, I totally suck.” he argued. “I miss you sooo much. Come over. My parents won’t be home until like, morning.” and when the younger hesitated, he added. “It’ll remind you how much you love me.”

Wooyoung contemplated actually turning him down, claiming he had other vaguely important plans to tend to, but in the end the younger decided he missed his best friend too much.

“Yeah,” he said, after a minute. “Of course.”

  
  


The walk to Daehyun’s home was a familiar one. Wooyoung himself has been walking on the same route for 7 years now, and counting. Today, he decided to bike there, saving some energy as opposed to his usual way of simply walking the whole way. He leaned his bike against the side of Daehyun’s garage and went to the front door, waiting for the owner to open the door.

Kim Minsoo opened it instead.

“Jung Wooyoung?” he said in a questioning manner. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He stared at him for a whole minute, his freshly dyed platinum blonde hair, dark grey mesh top and skinny ripped jeans. Doesn’t take two seconds for him to deduce that it was definitely  _ not  _ a small get-together that’s happening inside that house right now. “Yeah,” he replied, eventually. “Me too.”

“Daehyun’s around here somewhere,” the blond said, leading the way into the front hall like this was a place he’d never been to before, like he actually needed to be pointed in the direction of the bathroom. The younger followed dumbly, though. In the living room were about a dozen kids he recognized from the hallways at school. He could see a couple more people hanging out in the kitchen; not a big party per say, but not what he had in mind all the same. “I always forget you guys are friends.”

“Uh yup,” he said, trying to ignore the edge in his tone. “We’re friends.”

Just then, Daehyun appeared, grinning from ear to ear. The flush in his face was a clear indication that the boy was, mildly for now, intoxicated. The older boy threw his skinny arms around him, “Youngie!” he said, and in that second he looked so happy to see the younger that got him to even smile back. That was the thing about Daehyun; one of the many reasons why Wooyoung holds him so precious in his heart. “You’re here!”

“I am,” he replied, letting him spin him in a circle happily first before continuing, “You know, you could’ve mentioned on the phone that half the school was going to be here. I could’ve, you know, be presentable.” Wooyoung was wearing a plain blue black sweater and jeans, perched on his head was the beret Daehyun bought for him on his 16th birthday, a desperate attempt to hide his unkempt hair.

“What are you talking about?” Daehyun asked, frowning. “You look adorable.”

“I look like I didn’t bath in two days,”

“You look arty.”

“Oh shut the fuck u—”

“Hey, Wooyoung.”

Now he’d most definitely recognize that voice anywhere. Wooyoung startled and swallowed the gasp that almost escaped at the sight of Choi San standing in front of him, in ripped jeans and a dark t-shirt. A plastic cup dangled by its lip in his hand.

“Hey, San” he said.

During the break, Wooyoung saw San pretty often. Hanging around at the restaurant, or sitting in front of them at the church on Sunday, at his house taking musical lessons from his father. However much he thought about him—and that is a  _ lot _ —years of practice made him reasonably adept at keeping it together whenever the older was around. 

He never saw San in Daehyun’s kitchen before though, never seen him slide a casual arm around his shoulders, the other hand ruffling his already messy hair. Seeing it now felt painful, like a muscle tearing. He had no idea where to even  _ look _ .

In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a second San was already leading Daehyun away without even trying; he just stepped back and the other boy followed, like a magnet. “Go grab a drink and come down to the basement,” the latter called out to Wooyoung distractedly. “We’re playing beer pong in a minute.”

And then he was gone.

He stood for a second, trying once again, to seem very calm. Finally he slipped by a couple making out on the kitchen counter, made his way out of the sliding door and across the patio. He walked straight to the swing set, that was probably wet from this afternoon’s rainstorm, but that was the least of his worries at this moment. Without all the obnoxious noises and body heats, Wooyoung was left alone with his thoughts.

Wooyoung doesn’t think he’s exactly shy. He just doesn’t know how to  _ do  _ all this stuff, and more than that, he didn’t particularly want to learn. His whole life Jongho had teased him for his inability to handle more than one friend at a time; ten minutes at a party was more than enough to make him feel like a pink elephant in the middle of the ocean. He wasn’t a loser, or unpopular, exactly, he was just…...unequipped.

It was one thing when he had Daehyun to fight his wars and vocalise feelings on behalf of both of them :  _ Wooyoung and I would love to go, Wooyoung and I think it’s funny.  _ But lately, not only does the younger feel like he didn’t have the time and patience to decode his silences, but on top of that, he’d taken the person Wooyoung wanted most in the entire world.

Obviously it was his own fault, he thought again, swinging absentmindedly on the swingset, without any care. Wooyoung was the one that didn’t know how to open up to people, hell he can’t even hold a conversation for more than ten minutes with his own entire effort. He just couldn’t figure out how Dae—

“Penny for your thoughts?”

San sidled across the damp grass, hands in his pocket, smiling softly at Wooyoung. He hadn’t even seen him coming, too deep into his ponderings. “What are you doing here?” the older asked.

"Um,” Wooyoung nervously played with the rusted chains of the swing. “Hiding.”

San raised his eyebrows, leaned against the side of the slide. “From what?”

_ Everyone and everything _ he wanted to say, but San probably already thought of him as a huge enough loser, he didn’t wanna add fuel to fire. So he simply shrugged and said “I don’t know.”

“Well.” San took a seat on the swing next to Wooyoung and rocked back and forth slowly. “You suck at hiding, because I found you in like, one second.”

“What? Were you  _ looking _ ?” he blurted without thinking. Before he could mend his mistake, San cut him off.

“And if I was?” he turns to face Wooyoung.

The younger sighed, “I’m not worth looking for.”

San frowned, “That’s not true,” he said. “Whatever reason you’re thinking less of yourself right now I’m telling you, it’s not true.”

_ Well for starters my own best friend couldn’t care less if I left even when he invited me in the first place,  _ but it didn’t feel like the kind of thing Wooyoung could say to Choi San. 

In the end, Wooyoung simply muttered a thanks to the older, at the same time willing his heart to calm down and not threaten to beat out of his chest. 

They swung in silence for about another minute before San broke it again, “This isn’t really your scene, huh?” he asked. 

“And what’s that? People having a good time?” Wooyoung replied, rather defensively. His spine straightened on reflex, hand curled tightly around the edge of the swing.

San laughed like he just said something brilliant, “Easy there, that’s not what I mean. Bunch of slackers screwing around. I don’t know. Kim Minsoo.”

That got his attention. Wooyoung squinted, trying to gauge the expression on San’s face, but it was frustratingly dark out there. “I thought you guys were friends.”

The older shrugged. “We are, I guess. But he’s…..you know.”

“I really,  _ really  _ do,” Wooyoung told him, and the way he said it cracked San up again. It made him incredibly warm inside. He grinned at the older, trying to remember the last time he made him laugh—a long time ago, definitely. Back when they were still little kids running around, playing tag in the grove behind San’s house.

They sat there for another minute in comfortable silence, swinging. Inside Daehyun’s house, Wooyoung could hear the sound of something crashing on the floor, followed by a spray of laughter. He winced, wondering how Daehyun is supposed to explain that to his parents.

“You ever wished you were still like, eight years old?” San asked suddenly.

The younger boy blinked at him, startled; It felt like he was looking through Wooyoung, like he could actually open up his head and see inside. He took a beat to recover before carefully thinking of the older’s question. 

“Nah,” he answered finally. It felt weirdly dangerous to look at him, like staring directly at the sun. “I only ever wish I was old enough to leave.”

San didn’t answer for what felt like an eternity. Finally Wooyoung found the courage to glance up at the older, only to find him looking back. Another moment passed before he slowly smiled, dimples and all, “For what it’s worth,” he said, bumping Wooyoung’s ankle softly. “I think you look arty.”

“Oh come on, I didnt kno—” he started but was cut off by an obnoxiously loud voice from a figure that’s crossing the lawn.

“There you are!” Daehyun called out brightly—looking gorgeous even in jeans and denim jacket. Of course he would have chosen him. “My two favourites.”

“Here we are,” San repeated, eyes still on Wooyoung for a single beat longer before turning his attention to Daehyun, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you inside.” He glanced at Wooyoung one more time, quick. “Later, Woo.”

“What were you guys talking about?” he asked once San was gone, replacing him on the swing next to Wooyoung. 

“Nothing,” he told him, shrugging. “He just wanted to know what I was doing out here.”

Daehyun looked at him inquisitively, like he didn’t quite trust him to tell the truth. “What  _ were _ you doing out here?” he asked.

Wooyoung let out an audible scoff, “Seriously?” he gaped, a flare of annoyance inside his chest. “I mean— _ seriously _ ?”

Daehyun blinked, his eyes wide and innocent. As if he had absolutely no idea what he meant. A look usually reserved for his parents and shopping mall security guards. Wooyoung didn’t like the older turning that look on him. “What?”

“Daehyun! You totally blindsided me with those people in there! I came over to watch TV or eat pizza or something, not play flip cup with a bunch of strangers.”

“They’re not  _ strangers _ ,” he corrected sharply. “You’re being overdramatic. They’re all from school. And I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you Minsoo was going to be here so—”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung interrupted, “That’s my point.”

“Well where does that leave me, huh?  _ They’re  _ my friends too, Young-ah. I like them. They’re not shady people. They’re nice.” he berated.

“I never said they weren’t nice,” the younger argued. “I never even said they’re the reason you totally vanish off the face of the earth this whole summer—”

“I said I was sorry! Wooyoung, if you could quit making it so hard for me to include you—”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be included in this stuff! I hate it! I just wanna do normal stuff, like always—”

“Like what? Card games?” Daehyun frowned. The air was getting too hot, despite the post-rain humidness. Wooyoung wanted to just hop on his bike and sped away. “Is that what you want to do, really? Is that still fun to you? Come on, Woo.” he prodded. “People like you. They all just think  _ you  _ don’t like  _ them _ .”

“I mean, I  _ don't _ .”

“You don’t even know them!” he exploded, then added, nastily: “You like  _ San.” _

That hit the mark.

“Okay,” he stood up, wiped his palms on the rain-wet backside of his jeans, because there was no way in  _ hell  _ are they going to have this conversation here. Not when he was tired, lonely and embarrassed by everything. “You want to win this fight, Daehyun? You can win this fight, that’s cool. I’ll see you.”

Daehyun immediately got up as well and followed Wooyoung across the lawn, blurting out quickly, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be bitchy.”

“Oh you weren’t?” the younger retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes to make a point.

“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m trying to have a conversation with you.  _ God  _ Wooyoung! I miss you! I want to talk to you about stuff.”

Wooyoung turned to look at Daehyun coldly, knowing there was no way for their friendship to end well unless he left now. But he was accustomed to 7 years of never denying the older, so he stayed put. “Like what, exactly?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Daehyun shrugged, almost helpless. “You know what I mean. He’s…...fuck I don’t know how to say this, Woo. He’s not what we thought he was.”

“Is he a 100 year old blood-sucking vampire?” he deadpanned.

That made him mad. “Okay,” Daehyun said angrily. “ _ You _ wanna win this fight, Woo? You can win it. You can ice me out. But I’m just trying to be honest with you. I know you think I’m this horrible person, and I know you think like I  _ stole _ him from you or something—”

“I  _ never _ said that—”

“But I did you a favour. If you can’t handle coming to my house and playing beer pong with Kim Minsoo, you definitely couldn’t handle having sex with Choi San.”

Wooyoung reeled for a second, moving back as if he was shoved. In a way, he did. The younger stood there, devastated.

“Look, Woo.” As soon as it was out there Daehyun knew he’d crossed the line. But that’s the thing about words. You can’t take it back. Wooyoung wanted to hit rewind on this night, wishing he never agreed to come at all, and for this entire summer, for this bizarre alternate universe to bend over itself again and for everything to go back the way it was supposed to be.  _ You ever wished you were still eight years old? _

Wooyoung looked at the older for one more moment, looking sadder than Daehyun had ever seen him, and then he turned around. Thunder rumbled over his head, signalling a storm about to break. 

“ _ Wooyoung _ ,” Daehyun called behind him, more forcefully this time. But by then, he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....that was a lot 😐
> 
> What do you think? Is this okay so far?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anybody that read since the beginning, I changed their baby's name. No particular reason really but the meaning would probably make more sense in the future chapters. So don't be confused.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this chapter!
> 
> UPDATE: Please read the updates in the first chapter notes

The first time Haneul meets her father is during congregation on Sunday morning. It’s been the longest tradition between their family and the Chois. In middle school he used to light up candles for his mom. Even when Wooyoung was at his lowest; miserable, lonely and heavily pregnant, he sat behind San’s parents every weekend. Even when Hongjoong himself stops attending after he started seeing Seonghwa—though Seonghwa himself finds nothing wrong with coming—he never misses it. Though Wooyoung admits, him being there was merely for attendance more often than not, never actually taking religious acts to heart. Especially when the entire church knows him as the gay kid that got knocked up by the Prince of the Choi Family. Why San doesn't get the same treatment would not be lost on him. Nonetheless, the Professions of Faith had just been something they always do together, world without end.

Today the blond had barely gotten his daughter settled in their usual seventh pew on the right when San struts in behind his parents, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his black jeans that were a bit too tight for church attire. He ignores Hyejin’s usual fuss for him to fix his button-down and catches Wooyoung’s stare right away, slightly smirking before turning to everyone. 

“Hey, everybody.” he whispers as he slides into his usual spot. The seat right in front of Wooyoung’s. The one that’s been empty for two years. Jongho ignores him. His boyfriend, Yeosang, is gaping in a way that makes Wooyoung want to smack him. 

_ Stop staring you bitch, he’s back I know. He’s gorgeous I know. _

Seonghwa is apparently the only member of the family with brain cells left, not that anyone’s surprised. “Hello, San.” he says to him. Beside him, his mother is glowing, radiating such joy that the light of her life, the archangel that is Choi San, the prodigal son has made his return. “It’s been a while. Good to see you.” 

San leans to side hug the older before turning to look at Haneul, and for a full minute all they did was stare at each other, silently. Wooyoung could swear he did not take a single breath during that time, quietly looking at them looking at each other. As much as he hates to admit it, looking at Haneul all these years made it so hard to forget San. From her light-toned complexion, the tiny crescents on each side of her cheeks and even her neck freckles. She really was a mini-San. The entire time, the raven-haired freezes up, still as winter, as if the blood had dried up in his veins.

Hyejin clears her throat, breaking San out of his stupor while Haneul just fidgets uncomfortably in Wooyoung’s arms. 

“Nice work,” is all he says, and Wooyoung simply laughs.

Back when they were together, Wooyoung used to spend Sunday mornings poking San in the back. He’d reach behind and grab the blond’s hands, the two of them thumb wrestling until their parents elbowed one or both of them in the side. San would often reach again for Woo’s hands anyway. Holding them tight until the end of the congregation.

They were sweethearts. It happened but it's over now. It’s fine.  
  
  
  


After church Wooyoung takes Haneul back home for lunch, also escaping San in the process. He straps her into her high chair, slicing some fruits for her while waiting for the toast to be done. “Baby, can you say  _ banana _ ?” he asks her, and Haneul repeats back obediently. “Good girl.” he tells her happily. It gives Wooyoung the greatest joy everytime she talks to him. She’s talking more and more now, jabbering all sorts of gibberish with the limited vocabulary she has. The blond can really listen to it all day.

Seonghwa comes into the kitchen and steals a slice of banana from the plate. Wooyoung snorts, “That’s for Haneul.”

“I’m sorry. Starving.” the older leans to give a peck on the top of the baby’s head. He keeps his hand there in an affectionate gesture before continuing. “You know Hyejin spoke to me before leaving just now.” 

Wooyoung raises his eyebrow, “What about?” 

“She wants to take Haneul to the dentist to get her a card.”

The younger spreads some nutella on a piece of toast before setting it on Haneul’s plate. “There you go,” he smiles when she quickly gobbles up the food. There’s something she definitely got from him. Turning back to his stepfather he speaks, “What for? Haneul’s fourteen month old. She barely has teeth,”

“Woo-”

“If she needs to go to the dentist, then  _ I’ll  _ take her.”

“I know that. But I guess Hyejin just wants to spend some time with her.”

Wooyoung barely tries to stop the scoff he let out, “Really now,”

Seonghwa stares back. “Yes, really.”

Growing up, Wooyoung spent so much time in the Choi household. Spending much more time with Hyejin as opposed to his other aunts and female relatives. She was his godmother, constantly spoiling him with expensive gifts ever since he could walk, especially after her real-estate business got bigger. Despite all the times he spends with her, it doesn’t totally make sense how he never got over being afraid of her. He couldn’t help but think that there’s something huge about him that she finds lacking, that she tries to fill with the luxurious offerings.

On top of that, until this morning, Hyejin has shown about as much interest in his daughter as one would in reading the details of the terms and conditions of a subscription. So excuse him for not feeling open to this very ‘noble’ act by Choi Hyejin.

“I think we’re busy that day.” Wooyoung announces, and his stepfather rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mention what day.”

“Well our social calendar is very packed,” that gets a chuckle out of Seonghwa at least.

“Wooyoung,”

“San has been back for  _ one day _ . And now she’s suddenly vying to be grandma of the year? Seriously? When have you ever seen __ her _hold_ this kid? Never? Cause that’s the right answer,  _ never _ !”

“Never!” Haneul copies, with her face in a small frown just like Wooyoung’s, throwing her toast to the floor to make a point.

Seonghwa moves to pick up the tossed bread before raising his eyebrows towards Wooyoung, “Woo, calm down.” he says quietly.

Wooyoung grabs the toast from his hand, “No, you calm down! I will  _ not  _ subject myself to this.” he’s far too riled up to even think properly at this moment. “No, I say  _ no _ . She cannot take my daughter anywhere. And why was she talking to you anyway? I’m right  _ here _ . I’ve  _ been  _ right here. Just like I have been for the last  _ two years _ , in case you don’t remember.” he quickly moves to wipe the tears that escaped. He feels so stupid for tearing up.

The older man gathers Wooyoung into his arms and nods slowly, “Of course honey,” he presses a kiss to the shorter’s temple, “I remember.”

  
  
  
  
  


Wooyoung’s phone rings after he puts Haneul to nap. He checks the caller, smiling wide before picking up. It’s Yunho. “Hey babe,” he waves at Seonghwa and moves to the living room for some privacy. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just called cause I miss you. Found the strawberry milk you always wanted,” Wooyoung laughs aloud. He doesn’t even know to be touched or amused by the people in his life. It’s a sweet gesture, really, only seventeen months late. Though he should probably blame the milk company for that. “Want me to drop it off at your place later? We can have early dinner too if you want.”

Wooyoung hesitates, Yunho is Mingi’s twin brother. The one that stayed in Gwangju their entire childhood, and only just moved to Ulsan early last year. They hit it off right away and agreed to date after about a month of going out. It also helps how he absolutely adores Haneul. Problem is, he never met San but clearly knows their history either from Mingi or Wooyoung himself. “How’s tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow works,” he speaks cheerfully. 

“Hey I’m working double shifts today. So I gotta go-”

“Yeah of course, I just wanted to hear your voice for a bit.” Wooyoung’s heart clenches. “You okay? You kinda sound a bit……out of it,”

He knows he should probably tell Yunho. He’s a good-natured mature adult, who would probably not think much of it anyways. But the younger keeps his mouth shut.

“Just tired,” he says instead, which technically isn’t lying. “See you tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  


Wooyoung barely got two feet inside the restaurant before he was ambushed by Mingi. “Where the hell have you been?” the taller whisper-yells to his ears. 

“Nice to see you too, Mingi,” he retorts sarcastically, moving to change into his work attire. “I had to put the baby down.”

“Uh-huh, save me that shit. Choi San is in the kitchen.” the older raises his brow. “Maybe you should start there.” Mingi’s voice is getting louder so Wooyoung shushes him.

“Would you keep it down? He was at church this morning too.” 

“Oh I bet he was,” he says, scoffing.

“Okay, what is _ that _ supposed to mean?”

The taller boy just shrugs. “I don’t know. Choi San always brings trouble.”

“Give him a chance, Mingi-ah.” Mingi’s eyes widened at that statement. Wooyoung himself doesn’t know what possessed him to come to the older’s defense. “I-I mean he just got back after all.”

“Are you?” he asks slowly. “Giving him a chance?”

Wooyoung silently ponders the question. Mingi’s no stranger to Choi San and his infallible charms. The four of them, with Jongho, had been working together in the restaurant since high school after all. If there’s anyone Wooyoung definitely cannot lie to regarding his San-related issues, it’s Mingi.

“I…..I don’t know” he finally decides.  _ I want to, but I don’t know if I should. _

Mingi seems to know those unsaid words anyway, and accepts it for now, instead bumping the shorter’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t know the news would travel this fast. I really just met him last Friday,” he shrugs, raising his shoulders in ignorance. 

“A whole two days? Am I even your best friend?” Wooyoung rolls his eyes at the older’s dramatic behaviour. “Have you told my brother?”

He looks away, not catching the taller’s eyes, “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Jung Wooyoung that’s  _ bullshit  _ and you know it.”

Before Wooyoung could respond, the devil himself decides to make himself known. San struts into the changing room with a bright smile. He’s got a large plastic cup in hands, ice americano by the looks of it, “Good evening friends, how are y’all doing?”

“ _ Good evening? _ ” Mingi snarls. He never was afraid of San. “After two damn years, and the best you could do was  _ good  _ fucking  _ evening _ ?”

San at least has the decency to look bashful, his cheeks tinted light pink. “I was going for casual,” he shrugs. “I overplayed it didn’t I?”

All three of them move out of the back to the dining room area. “A little bit.” Mingi answers, making a point of rolling his eyes. He stares at San as if he’s an apparition, a hologram that’s not really there. “Fuck it, I’m gonna need a drink.”

“Wait what?” Jongho looks up from the front counter, frowning but not actually moving to stop the older. “We’re not even open yet.”

“Aww the baby manager is worried? I’ll make one for you too.” Before Wooyoung can stop his crazy best friend from serving alcohol to his underage brother, the taller flips up the partition to the bar and turns towards the raven-haired boy. “What about you Sannie? Can I offer you a strong alcoholic beverage to help you take the edge of being yourself?”

Wooyoung and San snorts at the same time. The older looks over at him, holding the ice americano in his hands like a toast in the shorter’s direction. “I’m good.” he says, eyes never leaving the blond.

“Oh really?” Mingi’s eyebrows hitches. He stops what he was doing to turn back to the older. “You off the sauce or something?”

“And if I am?”

Wooyoung couldn’t help the surprise on his face. Choi San giving up on alcohol? He didn’t think he would still be alive when that happens.

“A bartender who doesn’t drink anymore? How romantic.”

San nods, “What can I say? I’m a romantic guy.” he says, sliding onto one of the barstools.

_ What the hell?  _

Jongho looks like he’s about five seconds away from vomiting all over the restaurant, and frankly, Wooyoung doesn’t blame him. He himself is feeling slightly queasy and light-headed. The blond gets up and goes into the staff’s lounge to punch his card. Afterwards, he goes about menial tasks, trying to keep his hands busy and avoiding the tiny voice in his head that keeps reminding him that with the four of them here,  _ it’s just like old times _ .

The place is slammed for brunch every Sunday, the workers barely having time to breathe every time. With the wait skyrocketing from 30 minutes to even 2 hours, Wooyoung surely has his hands full for the time. Once Mingi opens the door and greets the first customer, it’s smiles and thanks until late evening. When Wooyoung finally has a minute, he sneaks a glance at the bar only to see San getting swarmed and disappearing into the teeming crush of bodies.

Maybe Mingi was right after all. Choi San always brings trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so SO excited for the comeback! And for their Kingdom intro stage too!!!!  
> Make sure you create as many Whosfan accounts for the voting later, and other tokens in various voting apps too  
> Let's get them even more wins this cb! ><
> 
> These earlier chapters are just introduction to the characters, their relationships and their dynamics with each other so I'm really sorry if it gets boring :((
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Chapter - Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to apologize in advanced for this chapter :(
> 
> I added the tags, please don't ignore the TW either
> 
> You can skip the paragraph after the trigger warning until the end if you don’t want to read it, I’ve summarised it in the end notes
> 
> UPDATE: Please read the updates in the first chapter notes

**TW // Character death**

**3 years ago,**

There was a new host in the restaurant, Mingi. He was in 11th grade just like Wooyoung. He’d just moved from Gwangju with his mom. Apparently he also has a fraternal twin brother but the latter chose to stay behind with their dad. Mingi had flaming red hair that got him in trouble at school but for the most part he was friendly to him. If Wooyoung was honest, Mingi was a little too obnoxiously loud that he automatically assumed the latter thought he was too boring to breathe air. But one day, the older simply plopped his tray right next to him and demanded to know what was up with the food in this godforsaken place like they’ve been friends for all their lives. 

“Nothing’s up,” Wooyoung answered carefully, not wanting to screw anything up. “It just sucks.”

The older grinned, handed him half the chocolate bar he was unwrapping. “Looks that way.”

Mingi was giving Wooyoung a ride to work one afternoon, pulling out of the parking lot when he snorted and gestured out the windshield with his chin. “Isn’t that the bartender?” he asked, squinting a little. “From the restaurant?”

The younger followed his gaze to the side of the building, half hidden by a row of dry, browning shrubs: By the side door of the gym, Daehyun and San were pressed against the concrete, the brown-haired palm sliding steadily up his thigh.

Wooyoung’s heart sank. For a second it felt hard to breathe, like there was something unfamiliar taking up space in his chest. “Yeah, that’s him.” he said slowly.

Mingi scoffs, “People getting at it in broad daylight.” he pulled out into traffic. “You would think that sort of indecency is off limits at least on school grounds.” 

“Yeah.” Wooyoung simply chuckled absentmindedly, leaning his head and glancing out the window to stare at the clouds.

  
  
  


The year ground on in that way, before he even realised it was nearing Christmas. His family tried to make him celebrate his birthday by making a get together but he wouldn’t even entertain the idea. Wooyoung took a driving test and passed just after the New Year’s. The entire time he spent a whole lot of time with his writing journal. Seonghwa watched him carefully, cataloging the daily routine of his teenage life like an anthropologist conducting a field study: school, work, home, sleep, repeat. 

Wooyoung didn’t dare tell him about Daehyun and San—never even told his stepfather about Daehyun and _him_ —but obviously that didn’t stop him from knowing anyway. “Do you want to talk?” he asked once, both of them cuddled on the couch, three episodes into their current kdrama craze at the time.

The younger just shrugged like he doesn’t have the faintest idea of what Seonghwa meant. “What about?” he let out blandly.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and that was that.

Wooyoung did call Daehyun once, for the record. He didn’t pick up. 

He didn’t call back either so that was that.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


The answer, Wooyoung always thought, was to get out of town.

He’d always liked to read about foreign places, but that winter was absolutely insatiable. He just couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he could get out right that second. Wooyoung would camp out on his bed surrounded by travel books that he borrowed from the school library. He plotted. He made guides and lists. He stayed up all night clicking through blog after blog, stories and pictures of other people’s travels making his heart clench with envy before proceeding to map his own itinerary.

He wanted so, so badly to leave. 

  
  
  


One morning in spring, Wooyoung got a note in class saying he needed to go to meet the school counsellor by the end of the day, which left him feeling startled and uneasy. He’d never been called out to the office before. Wooyoung wondered if he was in trouble for something he didn’t know he’d done.

He spent all morning with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. After all his classes were over, Wooyoung slowly made his way to the counsellor’s office. He knocked tentatively on the door and waited. When the door opened, there was a dark-haired young woman he’d never seen before, a little plaque printed with _Jeon Hae Jung_ on the desk. The boy had been expecting to meet with Mrs. Park, the older, slightly unorganized counsellor who’d run all of their seminars but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Jung Wooyoung,” she said, smiling warmly. “Come on in.”

Wooyoung had no idea how she knew who he was. Then he peeked at her table and saw his student file all laid out, some certificates to competitions he couldn’t even put a name to out of their sleeves. The teacher was pretty and smart-looking in a way that immediately made him want to please her. The younger found himself smiling back.

“You’re not in trouble.” she started, as soon as he was seated. “Everybody I’ve had here so far keeps thinking they’re in trouble. I’m new here, so I’m just kind of going through my lists and trying to get to know everyone I can.” She picked up another file and tapped it on her desks. Reading upside down, he could see that it contained his transcripts.

Ms. Jeon asked how Wooyoung’s classes were going and if he had any after-school job, taking notes of his answers on a bright yellow post-it. After the flurry of questions she took a sip of her Starbucks coffee. Wooyoung thought for a second of why she didn’t just get her coffee from the teachers’ lounge. His thought was cut off by her sudden question. He didn’t even realise she already put the cup down.

“Have you given any thoughts about college yet?” leaning back on her comfortable-looking chair, gazing at Wooyoung seriously. So far, the boy had been answering all her questions vaguely, trying to keep his guards up and guess her objectives. This particular one made his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before returning to his stoic facade again.

“A little,” he admitted, which was very much a lie. He thought about college only about every hour of the day, of where he might go, of the people he’d meet there. There was, at this very moment, a course catalog from Yonsei University on his desk at home, so well-thumbed it was practically falling apart. Wooyoung could recite their literature program requirements from memory by now. “I mean, I’m only in 11th grade. There’s still another year to make a decision. So, I figured I had some time.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been looking at your records, Wooyoung. Straight A+ every semester you’ve been here, straight honors track since last year. Though I would like to see you more active in an extracurricular or two, but the fact is that if you stay this way, you might be eligible to graduate a full year early.” Ms. Jeon looked so excited for him that he found himself breaking down his walls to let out a genuinely surprised expression.

It took him a full minute to absorb that information. _Eligible for graduation. A full year early. A year early._ Wooyoung stared at her for a moment, blinking. Ms Jeon took his silence as reluctance. 

“You don’t _have_ to, of course. In fact, I know plenty of students wouldn’t want to miss out on being a senior, and everything that goes with it. I just wanted to let you know that you have the opt—”

“I’d love to.” Wooyoung interrupted quickly, because yes, he would very much _love_ to. His mind wandered off to plane rides, and huge drafty lecture halls. “What do you need me to do? Anything.”

What Ms. Jeon wanted the younger to do—for the time being at least—was pretty simple: keep doing well in his classes, join two extracurriculars at the very least, make a list of schools he wanted to apply to, and get himself a CSAT study book. “We’ll find you some volunteer work for the summer. Beef up your transcripts a bit.” she said before telling him he was free to leave, eyes shining like maybe she was just as excited about the prospects of pulling this off as Wooyoung was.

_I’ve got my ticket out of here_.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


In March, two of the waitresses in the restaurant quit, so on top of studying, Wooyoung had to take up double shifts and overtime. Hongjoong and Junho bought the restaurant when he was a little boy and he’d been waiting tables for just about as long, memorising the menu by heart. What’s been consistent since back then was the band that’s set up by the bar. Sometimes Hongjoong himself played there, singing a duet with Seonghwa on a less busy night. This restaurant was pretty much a part of Wooyoung himself, one he’d have to learn to live without if his plans were to actually happen.

The guys playing on this particular night were one of his favourites, the group of boys his father had mentored. Wooyoung sang along under his breath while he swiped a couple of cards through the computer. Sometime during the second verse he realized he wasn’t alone: San was leaning against the wall and watching the younger, a dimpled smile on his face.

Wooyoung’s jaw snapped shut, cheeks blushing furiously and surprised. San wasn’t even supposed to work today. He wasn’t on schedule. Yet there he was, hair slicked back exposing his forehead and wearing a black turtleneck with dark blue jeans. Wooyoung feels like trash as compared to the older in his black slacks and white shirt, a feeling not foreign when it comes to him and San. The taller one was obviously dressed for an occasion which weirded Wooyoung out to see him standing here. “Don’t tease,” he ordered, trying like hell not to let his feelings out even a little, even though San had been dating Daehyun for more than six months. Once Wooyoung straightened his spine, he turned towards the older properly. “What are you doing here?”

San just shrugged and kept standing there, like he had no other place in the world to be than here. “I’m not teasing, it’s a good song.” he smiled again. “Good to know you have taste”

“It’s a _great_ song.” he corrected. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You sound like your dad.” he chuckled softly, “Can’t I be here?”

Wooyoung stayed silent at that. That was San for him, getting the younger tongue-tied at a supposedly simple question. He shrugged in return after a while, feigning nonchalance, “Seeing how you’re dressed you must have somewhere better to be on a Friday night like this.”

San tilted his head. “I was looking for you.”

“Right,” Wooyoung snorted. “Your mom was floating around earlier.” Choi Hyejin wasn’t super involved in the day-to-day running of the restaurant, though her fingerprints were everywhere if you knew where to look. The lady herself was busy with her up and coming real estate company, though if you ask Wooyoung she probably had a better head for the food business than either Hongjoong or Junho. Hyejin would turn up from time to time, watchful, an expression on her face like she was working out sums in her mind 24/7. The busboys were all terrified of her; Mingi secretly called her Dragon Lady. Wooyoung just tried to stay out of her way most of the time. 

The one person Hyejin never seemed to turn her cold scrutiny on was San. He was her only son, the prince of the Choi family, her Best Beloved. As long as Wooyoung had known Hyejin she’d always been ferociously protective of him. “She’d probably make you take a blood test before you’re allowed to be his boyfriend,” Daehyun hypothesized one day—not that it seemed to have stopped him in the end though.

Wooyoung was about to head back towards the kitchens when San reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. “ _Wooyoung_ ,” there was something urgent and unexpected in his tone right then. “Why don’t I ever see you around anymore?”

The younger blinked at him, disbelieving. San was still holding on to his arm. “Well maybe I’m just better at hiding than you thought.”

San took long enough to answer that Wooyoung was sure he had no idea what the younger was talking about. It had been a really long time since that night in Daehyun’s backyard after all. He was about to pull his wrist away before San stopped him again. “I’m serious, Woo. What are you hiding from anyway?”

 _Everyone and everything,_ he mused, mind once again going back to that dreadful night. He contemplates actually saying it out loud this time but when his eyes caught San’s gaze he froze. San really seemed serious.

“Well I’m serious too.”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

Wooyoung cocked his head, glancing around. At the other end of the bar sat Hongjoong, conversing brightly with one of their regulars. “Working?”

He rolled his eyes, “Thank you, princess. I meant after.”

“Going home?”

“Come hang out.”

“With you?” Wooyoung blurted out, eyes widened. San slowly smirked. 

“Yeah, Woo. With me.”

In all the years Wooyoung had known San—and he’d known him pretty much since he was born—he had never once asked him to go anywhere. It took him a while to recover but still the younger shook his head like an instinct. He thought of the party at Daehyun’s, of Kim Minsoo and his very apparent inability to navigate in a crowd.

“Listen, San-ah. Daehyun and I….we’re not really..” he trailed off. Wondering how much Daehyun told him, he tried again, “I mean, we’re not so much...hanging out.”

San frowned, and there was that expression again, like he’d come here to tell Wooyoung something specific. “I didn’t mean with Daehyun.”

_Oh._

The shorter looked at him for a moment, then back over at his father with his coffee. “San—”

“Come on, Young-ah. It’s just me.” he said, slightly impatient. Wooyoung got the feeling this was all the convincing he was going to do.

Wooyoung’s mind immediately went to Daehyun. No matter how he tried to justify it, this was a capital crime of friendship. It was treason, even if the older had done it first.

“Yeah, I can hang out.”

  
  
  
  


“Who with?” was the first thing Hongjoong wanted to know when Wooyoung told him he was going out for a bit after work—a fair enough question, seeing as how he’d spent the last eight months hanging out with his journal and cereal boxes. The older man had been chatting with the drummer in the band. 

“Daehyun,” he blurted. “With Daehyun.”

He didn’t know why he didn’t tell him. There was really no reason to think his father wouldn’t let him go. San was his godson, after all, heir to his musical talent in practice if not by blood. Still, he’d have wanted to know the wheres and whys. For now it just seemed neater not to say.

“Daehyun?” he said slowly, slipping an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders. “There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“Um, yeah.”

Hongjoong shrugged and nodded. Of course he trusted his son, he’d never had a reason not to. “Have a good time. And home before curfew.” he said, lips against the younger’s forehead as a goodbye kiss.

  
  
  


Wooyoung found San in the back hallway, leaning against the door to the office and scrolling through his phone boredly. When he saw the younger he looked up, smirking a little, “Did you just lie to your dad about me?”

“Yes?”

The smirk bloomed into a grin. “Okay, then. At least I know where I stand.”

“I don’t mean—

“I’m just teasing you, Woo. You ready?” he told him, delighted. Wooyoung stared at San, silently hoping that he couldn’t tell what a big deal this was for him. That just the thought of being alone with him had the younger’s stomach turn.

“Sure.” he smiled back. San had such a bright infectious smile. Paired with those crescents on his cheeks, there was no way someone could ever turn down a smiling Choi San. 

The older held the back door open and Wooyoung followed him across the parking lot to his truck. He didn’t talk. The shorter had no idea where they were even going, and at this point it felt a little too late to ask: He opened his mouth, hesitated, shut it again. San didn’t seem bothered at all.

Wooyoung peeked around the Jeep as secretively as he could manage, stealing glances as San hit the gas. When he put his bag on the floor of the older’s car, he saw a mix CD with Daehyun’s handwriting on the label. He closed his eyes for a second. Daehyun used to make him mixes all the time, songs for his birthday, Christmases and springtimes. 

He didn’t mean to sigh, never even heard himself do it, but he must have, because San glanced over, sharp features lit reddish by the neon lights of the signboards they went by. “Long day?” he asked.

“Yeah, kind of.” Wooyoung answered, letting the older think it was the tedium of service work getting him down and not the hopelessness of being in this Jeep with him.

San nodded, “You want ice cream?”

Wooyoung blinked. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but it….wasn’t that. “Ice cream?” he repeated.

“Yes, princess, ice cream.” San laughed as he pulled into a parking spot, not bothering to wait for the younger’s answer. “What did you think I was gonna offer you? Some glue to sniff?”

“No!” he quickly blurted, though if he was being honest, San was probably closer to the truth than not. Wooyoung unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

“You think I’m way tougher than I actually am.” San bumped Wooyoung’s shoulder with his as they crossed the parking lot.

The younger shook his head and looked away. “I really don’t”, he promised.

San simply hummed in return, like he thought Wooyoung was full of shit but didn’t particularly mind. “Whatever you say.”

They ordered at the counter and Wooyoung’s hands quickly go to his back pocket to grab his wallet. When he found it empty, he dug into his backpack for them, pulling out a set of house keys and some travel catalogues to get to the bottom of the bag. San pushed his hand away and told him. “I got it,” handing the cashier a wrinkled note. The older nodded at his catalogues, “Planning a trip?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. They’re for my admission essay.”

“To college?” San raised his eyebrows, licked the dripping bottom of Wooyoung’s cone before handing it over. “Already?”

He nodded. “I’m taking the CSAT in fall, same as you. And if I do well I’m graduating a year early. Yonsei is my main choice.”

San tilted his head to the side. “That’s ambitious.”

“I’m ambitious.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, taking his own cone and herding the younger back towards the door, holding it open with one foot as he scooted through. “So that’s what your essay’s about then? Travelling?”

“Yeah, kind of. I mean it’s pretty stupid.” he shook his head, embarassed.

“I doubt that.” They were back at San’s Jeep by this point. The taller climbed up on the hood to eat his ice cream, angled his head at the empty space beside him until Wooyoung got the message and pulled up onto the bumper along with him. “Tell me.”

“Fine,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing in the dark. “It’s the theme for the writing program I’m applying to. Travel writing. So I’m writing the essay like a travel guide, basically—go here, do this, avoid this gross hotel—only instead of it being about a particular place, it’s actually about, like, my life. Or like, the life I want to have.” he shrugged again, slowly getting embarrassed.

“That’s not stupid.” San was grinning. “That’s super cool. I want to read it when you’re done.”

The younger snorted, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.” San said, then after a beat of silence he continued, “So, early graduation, huh? You’re that desperate to get out of here?” his tone teasing but the look on his face told Wooyoung he’s serious.

“No, it’s not that. I mean of course I’ll miss my family and everyone. I love my family so much, it’s just...I just…” Wooyoung struggled to make his point. He didn’t know how to explain something like loneliness to someone like San. “There’s not a whole lot for me here, you know?”

San smiled a bit, face still as unreadable as ever. If Wooyoung was crazy he might even caught a bit of disappointment in the other’s expression. “So what you’re saying is I better hang out with you while I can?”

 _What?_ At this point Wooyoung was pretty sure this was some kind of out of body experience. Seriously, what was going _on_ here? He had no earthly idea what San was after.

“I’m sorry, you’re joking right?” he couldn’t even pretend to mask it anymore.

San sighed, “Why do you keep asking me that?”

“I didn’t think you even remembered I _existed_ before today, if we’re being honest here. You never looked my way once?” he rambled, tone not accusing, but merely curious.

“I never forget you, Woo. How could you think that? And I’m looking at you _now_.”

They turned to stare into each other’s eyes, “Yeah, I guess you are.” was all he said.

Wooyoung and San sat in silence for a little while, watching the cars go by on the highway. The shorter ate his ice cream and waited. “You’re quiet,” San said, eventually. 

He considered this for a moment. “Well, so are you.”

“Wooyoung-ah,” they were sitting close enough that their arms were touching, “Why are you here?”

Wooyoung looked at him from the side. His heartbeat kept picking up in pace in his chest. “I don’t know, San. You tell me.”

San shook his head. “No, Woo. I’m serious.”

“Are you really?”

He nods, “Yeah, I really am”

“Look, San-ah,” Wooyoung hesitated, blushing. He was completely sure he was misunderstanding whatever was happening here. “Daehyun’s my friend. Or _was_ my friend, at least, I don’t even know at this point, and—”

“Don’t you get tired, Woo?” the older interrupted.

He stopped, caught off guard by the question, “Of what?”

San shrugged, “Being who everybody thinks you are.”

“What? No! I mean, who else would I possibly be?” he nervously glanced out across the highway and the trees, stalling.

The older seemed to know Wooyoung was faking; he looked at him in a way that made him tense, like he’s reading and processing everything inside his head. Fighting the creeping feeling that he was _way_ over his own head, Wooyoung did what any rational human being would do when confronted with a question he didn’t want to answer, by a person he’d had a miserable crush on for his entire life.

He nudged his cone right up into San’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” he said immediately, giggling hysterically. “Oh my god, I swear I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just did that.” He really didn’t but for some reason he couldn’t stop laughing.

San stared at him for a second, ice cream smudged over his pretty mouth and sharp nose. “I…..kind of can’t believe you did, either.” he said, but he was laughing. Without warning, he put his free hand on the back of Wooyoung’s head and pressed their lips together. It didn’t even last very long, but the younger tasted chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. He didn’t even close his eyes.

San pulled back a little bit. “Is it okay that I just did that?” he asked after a second.

Wooyoung nodded dumbly.

“Did you like it as much as I did?”

He nodded again.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again in your whole life?”

He nodded furiously, “I mean, yes.” he said, recovering slightly.

San grinned, “Okay, good.” he tossed the rest of his ice cream into a nearby trash can and cupped both of his hands around Wooyoung’s face, leaning for another kiss.

He was still kissing the younger when his cell phone rang inside his jeans, and Wooyoung made to pull away but San’s grip tightened, “Just ignore it. Ignore it.” he muttered breathlessly when they stopped to catch a breath. And he did, for a minute, but then his phone started ringing too.

He barely caught a glance at the name before his eyes widened. “San, it’s my house. I have to pick it up. Hello?” he answered, while San moved his mouth down Wooyoung’s neck. The younger couldn’t even process anything. They were in the middle of a _parking lot_ for goodness sake! His dad was on the phone, replying in a second.

“ _Wooyoung_ ,” Hongjoong started tensely, and there was a sound in his voice that Wooyoung had never heard before, panic and anger. “Oh, thank God. Where are you?”

He jumped off the hood of that Jeep so fast he almost gave San a whiplash, squeezing his eyes shut as he figured out what to say. Wooyoung had lied to his father for the first time in his entire _life_ and he was caught. _How was that even possible?_ he thought miserably.

He was still trying to come up with an answer when he pushed on: “Are you with Daehyun now?” Hongjoong demanded.

Wooyoung curled his hand into a fist. San was watching him carefully. The younger fumbled around for something plausible before finally surrendering and decided to settle for the truth.

“No,” he admitted. “No, I’m not.”

“Thank God.” he said to whomever is in the room with him, either Seonghwa or Jongho. “She’s okay. I got her.”

Suddenly, Wooyoung’s blood ran cold. He was very, very afraid. “What’s going on?” he asked sharply.  
  
“Sweetheart,” It was Seonghwa this time. San’s curious expression on his pretty face bored into the younger’s eyes. “I have to tell you something bad.”

  
  


*****TW // Character death*****

San was silent the entire time he sped away from the ice cream shop and toward the hospital. It was too quiet for Wooyoung’s liking, probably the quietest he’s ever seen the older. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked.

San shrugged once, eyes never leaving the road, even at the traffic light. “I don’t know.”

“It must be bad, right? If he’s already in surgery and my dad won’t….I mean.” Wooyoung broke off, the words swallowed by guilt and confusion and a huge, endless fear. “It must be real bad.”

“I said I don’t _know,_ Wooyoung.” he told him, and the younger was quiet after that.

They parked in the parking lot of the hospital and got lost on the way to the ER, the two of them wandering the corridors panickedly.

“This way,” San said finally, and Wooyoung followed him dumbly down a freezing hallway, and into chaos.

There was a crowd in the waiting room, small but restless: Daehyun’s parents, San’s, even Kim Minsoo was there, hands roughly going through his messy white hair, looking extremely unsettled. And then there were Hongjoong and Seonghwa, watchful and waiting. Seonghwa looked heartbroken, and his father looked like he just aged fifty years older right then.

They got to their feet as Wooyoung ran across the hallway, and he saw Hongjoong’s eyes narrow in confusion. On the phone they had never actually established where he was or who he was with, and now here was San close behind him. The younger momentarily ignored Hongjoong’s gaze.

 _Daehyun’s boyfriend,_ he thought, for the thousandth time in the last fifteen minutes. _I was with Daehyun’s boyfriend._

Hongjoong didn’t have time to ask though, because Daehyun’s mom had spotted Wooyoung and was rushing forward, grabbing him so tightly it was painful. “He’s gone, Wooyoungie.” Mrs. Kim wailed. “Our boy is gone.”

Wooyoung blinked in response, and thought, very clearly : _This isn’t happening. No, no, this is all our fault._

He stood there with Daehyun’s mom for a while, letting her sob into his shirt. Wooyoung didn’t cry, couldn’t bring himself to drop even a single tear. He didn’t really do much of anything, for that matter; he felt frozen, like something had been sealed inside of him. After a while, Mr. Kim pried her gently out of his arms.

“We didn’t even make up yet.” he whispered to the older man. 

“Wooyoung,” That was Seonghwa, coming closer, but he flinched away when he came close. 

“No, I’m serious.” his tone was shrill even to his own ears, voice getting louder. “We weren’t— I haven’t….we were….I’m not _kidding_.” his voice cracking

He trailed off, almost falling to his knees when his legs felt like jelly and couldn’t hold his weight anymore. His stepfather wrapped his arm around him, catching him before he fell to the floor. Wooyoung felt his ribs start to collapse. He looked up one last time before he stopped remembering anything, just in time to catch the back of San’s turtleneck as he watched him slip out the sliding doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody skips the TW , Seonghwa tell them that Daehyun was in the hospital and he passed away in surgery
> 
> Lmk what you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready to be ✨frustrated✨

San was absent for the rest of Wooyoung’s Sunday brunch shift, although he might as well be breathing down his neck the whole time the way everybody’s talking about him—like he’s some visiting movie star and not a degenerate who up and abandoned everybody who ever cared. The regulars are delighted to see him. The waitresses can’t get over his hair. He’s been traveling this whole time, the cook tells Wooyoung in the kitchen, rambling around the country with no particular destination in mind.

“ _Traveling_ ,” the younger repeated slowly, the colossal unfairness of it hitting him with a force so physical he actually had to grab the edge of the prep table to steady himself. “How nice for him.”

By five fifteen, all Wooyoung wants to do is go home and curl into a ball under the covers, but right after he punches his card, San’s there in the doorway of the office staring at him carefully.

“God,” the younger says, louder than he means to. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” San says, though his voice suggests zero remorse. He slouches casually against the jamb. For the first time since he turned up, Wooyoung lets himself stare at him for longer than a second, more than a quick, hungry glance out of the corner of his eye: He’s broader than he was before he left. Arms definitely more buff. The older is patient; he stands there and he lets Wooyoung look.

“What do you want?” he snaps, once he’s finished.

“Nothing,”

“Have you been here all day?” Wooyoung asks as he digs for his car keys from the bottom of his bag, eyes on the messy contents in order to avoid looking at the older.

“Nope,” he answered, eyes gleaming. “I checked the schedule.”

“For what, exactly?”

“To catch you before leaving.”

Wooyoung snorts, “Well, mission accomplished. Now if you’d excuse me—”

San doesn’t move from the doorway. “Looked pretty busy today,” he says. “Have to get used to it again, I guess.”

The younger narrows his eye in suspicion. “Why’s that?” he demands. They have another bartender now, a thirty-something guy named Hyunwoo who’s always giving Haneul candies that she’s too young to eat. “Don’t tell me you’re picking up shifts?”

“Are you going to kill me if I say yes?”

“Possibly,” he tells him, and the taller smiles like Wooyoung’s trying to be funny. He is not trying to be funny. In fact, he thinks he might even burst into tears. 

“Can you stop?” he asks, voice brittle. “I mean it. I’m not—just—stop.”

San quits smiling then, and makes a move to come towards Wooyoung, who holds out his hands to keep him away.

“Wooyoung,” he starts.

“Seriously,” Wooyoung tells him. “You can’t just come here after all this time and try to joke around with me and act like _nothing_ happened _._ That’s not—stuff happened, San-ah. You can’t just be _back_.”

San shrugs at that, just barely. Suddenly, he looks so much older than he is. “I _am_ back, though,” he tells the younger softly. “You gotta … I am.”

The hideous thing is that Wooyoung actually _does_ want to forgive him. Even after everything he did, everything he suffered alone. A baby before his nineteenth birthday and a future as lonely as the surface of the moon, yet still just the sight of San feels like a homecoming, like a song he used to know but somehow forgot.

How completely messed up is that?

“Stay away from me,” Wooyoung mutters, and shoves past him out of the room.

  
  
  
  


“How was work?” Seonghwa wants to know when Wooyoung gets back to the house a while later. He’s sitting on the sofa, working intently on the crossword in the paper. 

“Horrible, thanks. Hey, pretty lady,” the younger says, scooping Haneul up from where she’s playing on the floor and planting noisy raspberries on her tummy until she’s giggling, squirming happily in his arms. “How was your day, huh? You had fun today?”

“She was a dream, as usual,” Seonghwa reports, the same thing he says every time he watches Haneul. They spend a lot of time together, and Wooyoung likes the idea of him as a second mom to Haneul, just like he was to him, instead of her grandad. 

“Where is he?” Wooyoung asks him now, toeing off his sneakers and hefting Hannah onto his hip. The younger strongly suspects his dad had been avoiding him since their run-in in the kitchen, studiously absent whenever he’s around. The baby chatters happily into his ear.

“In the yard again. Woo…You might want to give him some time.” Seonghwa almost looks sorry.

“Oh.” the younger nods. Wooyoung’s not entirely sure what Seonghwa’s worried about, his father’s temper or his heart. Both, most likely. “Okay. You know, I was thinking of taking the baby for a ride.”

“We’re supposed to meet Junho and Hyejin in a little bit anyway,” Seonghwa tells him. “Gonna check out that new place down 7th street.” and he looks like he wants to say something else, and for a moment Wooyoung almost asks him how is it possible that Hongjoong can eat a friendly dinner with San’s parents, but can’t find it in his heart to even look at his own son. In the end, though, both of them let it be.

“Have a good time,” is all he says.

“We will. Come on, you,” he tells the baby, and brings her upstairs for a change before they go. “We’re going on a drive.”

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


Yunho and Wooyoung have a date planned for Friday night, so the younger meets him down at the marina at the end of his shift. The taller is appalled that Wooyoung had lived fifteen minutes from the ocean his entire life and somehow never eaten grilled oysters before, so he takes him to this place on the pier. 

“In my defense though, for the longest time I thought I was allergic,” Wooyoung protests, pulling a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table. “It wasn’t until I was shitfaced and downed the entire plate of raw oysters during the franchise’s opening that I knew”

Yunho shrugs. “Excuses, excuses” he says, then laughs. “I mean, technically they’re out of season right now, which means they hauled their slow crustacean selves all the way here so that you could have this experience, so you should probably quit complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” Wooyoung tells him, and smiles. There's many plates of side dishes between them. The last of the sunset catches the gold in Yunho’s hair. “Actually, I’m happy as a clam.”

The older actually groans aloud. “Not a seafood pun,” he says, while Wooyoung just cackles dorkily. “Really? Really?”

After Yunho graduated high school in the city back in Gwangju, he worked on boats in the waterfront cities for a couple of months before he moved to Ulsan at the beginning of last summer. He picked up Mingi from work every night for two weeks before Wooyoung realized he wasn’t doing it to make Mingi’s life easier.

“You realize I’m not fun,” he remembered telling Yunho, the first time he asked him out. “I have a kid. I’m no fun. Even before I had a kid, I wasn’t fun.”

“You’re totally boring,” he agreed, nodding seriously. They were standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant after eleven, the smell of heat and car exhaust and the ocean somewhere underneath. “Definitely.” Then he laughed, and it felt like something warm cracking open inside the younger’s chest, for the first time since San left. “How’s this weekend?” he asked, and that was that.

Tonight they finish their meal and wander down the beach for a while in the dark. The sand is gritty and familiar beneath Wooyoung’s feet. He chats with the older for a while about the classes he’s taking, lit and art history, at the community college.

“We still on for Saturday?” Yunho asks, when they’re back at his car. They make out against the side of the vehicle for a while, the faint zing of peppermint gum behind his teeth, but Jongho and Yeosang have the baby, and he had promised to pick her up by ten.

“Absolutely,” Wooyoung answers with a grin, though in truth he totally forgot about it until right now. There’s a barbecue at the older’s mom’s house, a family thing with Mingi and everybody that he told him about last week. At some point, he’s going to have to make a salad. “Pick us up around one?”

“Will do.” Yunho kisses the shorter good-bye and knocks twice on the roof before he goes, “Get home safe”.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


Wooyoung is already running a little behind by the time he gets Haneul changed and makes it down to the kitchen to finish packing the diaper bag. He bumps the swinging door open with one hip only to find San standing there, dressed in his work clothes, looking at the baby pictures on the fridge. The younger freezes. “What are—?”

“I didn’t know you were here,” he says immediately. “My dad just needed to drop some paperwork off for your dad. Your car wasn’t—I swear I didn’t know you were here.”

“It was making a noise,” Wooyoung says, stopping in the doorway and watching the older for a second, remembering how used to find him like this all the time when they were together, just hanging out in his house as if he lived here. He swallows and holds the baby a little tighter. “Jongho took it in this morning.”

San nods. “You said to stay away from you.”

“I did.” The blond bounces his daughter on his hip and rummages around in the fridge for the lidded cups of juice he put there last night, her pudgy hands rooting through his fair locks. “I was being dramatic.”

The older shrugs. “You’re allowed.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission.” The baby moves from his hair to his ears, yanking as hard as her baby arms allow, and Wooyoung does his best to disentangle her without dropping an armful of Tupperware. “Haneul, baby,” he mutters, nudging her away as gently as he can.

San takes a tentative step closer. “Need a hand?”

“Nope.” Wooyoung doesn't even think about it, it just comes right out, like the meanest thing to say is always on the tip of his tongue. Then he sighs, “You want to hold her?”

San looks genuinely surprised, which makes Wooyoung feel kind of shitty. “Yeah,” he says, right away. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

So the younger takes a deep breath and hands over their baby girl—watching the placement of his hands, her head, even though she’s kind of too old for him to have to worry about that. San’s absurdly careful though, like he’s holding a bomb. He looks totally, nakedly terrified. Wooyoung almost laughs.

Haneul whimpers for a moment like she’s going to start to fuss, and he dances around a little to stave off her cries. “Hey there, Haneul,” he says, once she relaxes. “Hey, pretty girl.”

Haneul smiles at that and Wooyoung glances sharply away. This close together they look so, so alike, fair skin, their sharp, intelligent faces and the matching dimples. It makes his heart swoop sort of unpleasantly. “Hi!” she replies cheerfully.

San stares a moment. “She talks?” he asks, clearly surprised.

“I mean, she’s human,” he says sarcastically, then: “Sorry.” he gives him some room. “That was—sorry.”

“It’s okay.” San shrugs, looks for a minute at the crescents on Haneul’s cheek. “You get that I didn’t know, right?” he says quietly.

Wooyoung flinches and clears his throat, glancing carefully away. “Know what?” he asks, all ignorance.

“Please don’t.” the older’s eyes darken; he grits his teeth. “Look,” he says. “You get to hate me. That’s … whatever. That’s okay. But don’t jerk me around about this, Woo. If she’s not mine—”

“Are you freaking _kidding_ me?” Wooyoung gapes, because seriously, the fucking balls of this man. “Of course she is!” he snatches the baby out of his arms. Haneul startles at the sudden change of position.

“ _What the hell,_ San—”

“Well, then just say that!” San shakes his head. “Woo, I didn’t call anybody. Nobody knew how to find me. You know that. I didn’t even know you were—if I’d have known, then—”

“Then what, exactly?” the younger snaps. “You’d have stepped up? Or you’d have offered to pay for me to ab—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts quickly, looking not at Wooyoung but at their baby. “Come on. That...that’s just shitty.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!” he explodes, and then hesitates, rubbing hard at the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Wooyoung tells him. He shoves a container of fish biscuits and some grapes into the baby bag, packing up one-handed.

San shakes his head again, frustrated, like Wooyoung was deliberately being difficult. “I have no idea what I would have done, Wooyoung-ah. You know what I was like. I was messed up. That’s why I left to begin with.” He sighs loudly, “But I’m here _now_.”

The blond hitches Haneul up his hip. “I can see that.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” San tells Wooyoung, ignoring the acidic coat of sarcasm on his words. He moves deftly out of the younger’s way as he moves around the kitchen. “I want to be here. I want to do whatever I can do to be a part of this.”

Wooyoung opens his mouth to say something snotty, then closes it again. Suddenly he feels so, so tired, like he’s had no sleep at all for the past two years. “Okay, fine.”

San’s eyes widen, like he was expecting the younger to tell him to go screw off. Wooyoung guesses he can’t exactly blame him. “Okay?”

“That’s what I said.” he says, shrugging.

They stand there for a minute. Wooyoung waits. The baby rests her heavy head on his shoulder, yawning, like she’s bored of them both.

“What about the park?” San asks, after a measure or two.

Wooyoung blinks at him. “The park?”

“Public place,” the older explains, picking Haneul’s baby sunglasses up off the counter and handing them over. “Middle of the day.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but takes the glasses. “Oh, stop it,”

“Made you smile.”

“Congratulations,” the blond says, snorting a bit. He perches the sunglasses on top of his daughter’s head, careful.

San is grinning ear to ear. “How’s tomorrow?”

He sighs. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

“Woo, darling,” Seonghwa pokes his head through the swinging door into the kitchen and stops cold when he sees them both. His eyebrows twitch.

“Hyung,” San says. If he was wearing a hat he would tip it for sure.

“Hey, San.” To Wooyoung, pointedly: “Yunho is here.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a sec.” he hefts the baby bag onto his shoulder, brushes Haneul’s hair out of her face.

“So,” San says, once the older was gone, and of course now he’s going to push his luck. “Yunho.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, hard. “I have a boyfriend, San-ah. God, I know that’s difficult to believe, but—”

“It’s not difficult.”

“Well.” He doesn't know what to say to that, exactly. “Bye. I’ll see you.”

“Absolutely,” he says, but he follows the younger out of the kitchen like a shadow and Wooyoung’s aware that San knows exactly what he’s doing. Yunho is standing in the living room, half watching the TV Seonghwa left on, in a loose t-shirt and an easy grin.

“Hi,” Wooyoung says.

“Hey,” Yunho replies.

“Hello,” San pipes in.

They stand there, the three of them, just looking at one another. Seonghwa has an expression on his face like he thinks Wooyoung’s lost his mind, that's probably not too far from the truth though. “Yunho,” the older man starts, when it’s clear Wooyoung has no intention of making any kind of introduction. “This is San. San, Yunho.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Yunho quips politely.

“Likewise,”

“Well!” Wooyoung cuts off brightly. He was a second away from bursting out laughing, but only to avoid some other, less desirable reaction, he holds it in. “We’ve gotta go.”

San nods slowly. He gazes at Yunho and then at Wooyoung. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, the faintest hint of a smirk at the edges of his mouth, words tinted with superiority.

Smug bastard. “Yup. Bye.” The blond kisses Seonghwa’s cheeks and grabs Yunho by the wrist, screen door smacking soundly shut behind them. He practically ran to the car.

“So,” Yunho says, when they’re buckled. “That was him.”

In all the time they’ve known each other, Wooyoung had vaguely told him about San. Basically only disclosing his identity as his ex boyfriend and father to Haneul. He had never once told him about their relationship from before. “Yeah,” the younger tells him after a moment. “That was him.”

Yunho turns the key in the ignition. “I thought he’d be taller,” is all he says.

  
  
  
  


Yunho and Mingi’s mom lives in a large landed house facing the waterfront, all cool tiled floors and viney green succulents exploding all over the raised deck that surrounds the pool. Haneul’s in heaven, drifting through the cool blue water in her yellow plastic baby raft, no shortage of middle-aged women in neon-flowered bathing suits to coo over her.

Eventually her small fingers go pruney, and they both climb carefully up onto the deck. Wooyoung wraps her in a hooded towel and takes her inside to get changed, stopping in the kitchen on their way back to pull some snacks out of the bag he packed this morning. Mingi’s rummaging around in the fridge for a lime to go with his beer. “Was wondering where you were,” he says, holding out the bottle. He’s wearing a swimming trunk, wet hair knotted all over his long face. “You want?”

Wooyoung glances over the line of succulents on the windowsill, taking in the big crowd in the yard. “I’m not going to drink while holding a baby in front of your entire family.”

“Oh, like anybody cares. You’re already here with your illegitimate child and they all love you. Speaking of; what about you, baby girl?” he says to Haneul. “Mai tai? Margarita?” He glances at the younger, frowns. “I’m kidding. I’m not actually going to make your kid a margarita. She’s a baby. That would be unethical.”

“Huh?” Wooyoung blinks, distracted, still gazing out at the crowd on the deck. “No, no. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even really listening.”

“Well, thanks,” the taller says faux-snottily, then with real concern. “Hey, you okay?”

Wooyoung shrugs, trying for a bright smile and probably missing. “I’m fine, not really sleeping so well.”

Mingi sighs, “Look, you can talk to me. I know it’s weird now because you’re dating my idiot brother and you’re hanging out with all my fat aunts and whatnot, but you talked to me before that and, you know. It doesn’t mean you can’t tell me stuff. You can tell me stuff.”

The blond hands the baby her fish biscuit, stalling, but it’s useless to do that with Mingi. He waits out every time. “San was at my house today,” he confesses finally, eating a couple of crackers himself for good measure. “We had, you know, the _talk_.”

“The _I know we’re really Catholic but this is where babies come from_ talk?” Mingi laughs, eyes going wide. “No offense, Woo, but you probably should have had that one like, two years ago, you know what I’m saying?”

“Oh, aren’t you a joker.” Wooyoung makes a face. “The _we made a baby and here she is_ talk, smartass.”

“Ooh. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” he says. “I don’t know. Just both of us stating the obvious and pretending we can be civil with each other for now, I guess. We’re going to hang out tomorrow, all three of us.”

“Like as a _family_?” Mingi blurts, and Wooyoung physically startles at the sound of that. Is that what they were, the three of them? That can’t possibly be.....right?

“Um, yeah,” he says after a moment. “I guess so.”

“Well.” Mingi’s quiet, and Wooyoung knows from experience that he’s working the logic of it out in his mind like some kind of puzzle. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean, for better or for worse, San _is_ your—”

“Don’t say it,” Wooyoung pleads, knowing what’s coming. Mingi sure loves this particular phrase.

“—baby daddy. There’s bound to be some big feelings there, or whatever, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be in your kid’s life. Right, Haneul?” he asks, kissing her hand. “You want your hot but loser dad to take you to Disneyland, don’t you?”

Wooyoung can’t help but laughs. “Can you cut it out?” he begs.

“I’m sorry, I’m not being helpful. Just, you know, don’t forget all the shitty stuff he did. And remember that you’re happy now.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung tells him, still distracted, glancing at the crowd around the table. Mingi’s uncles are arguing politics good-naturedly; his cousins are playing a noisy game of Marco Polo. He thinks again of families, Mingi’s and his and San’s, of what exactly they look like and what they do.

Mingi’s looking at the younger hard. “You _are_ happy now, aren’t you?” he asks.

At the grill, Yunho is burning some meat just how Wooyoung likes to eat them. “Yeah, of course.” he says, more certainly this time.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


“It’s not a date,” Wooyoung promises Seonghwa the next morning, when he asks for the particulars of his playground trip with San and Haneul. The older is sitting at the table drinking his favorite latte from an old Yonsei University mug he ordered years ago, his smooth forehead wrinkled in a frown. Wooyoung really, _really_ hates that mug. “He just wants to spend a little time with Haneul, so I said he could.” he tickles the baby’s feet in her high chair, and she giggles. “Kiss, please,” he asks sweetly, then wait for her to plant one on him before turning back to his stepfather. “I actually think it’s very adult behavior on my part.”

Seonghwa eyes him over his cup of coffee. “I heard you and Haneul have a very busy social calendar,” is all he says.

“Oh, you’re so funny aren’t you.” he scowls in response.

Now it’s three pm and 90 degrees out, and San and Wooyoung are pushing Haneul in the baby swings on the playground outside the elementary school. His car is still at the mechanic’s so San picked him up at the house, just like he used to. Wooyoung struggles to remember why he even agreed to this. It didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time.

“So what made you change your mind?” San wants to know now. He’s dressed in jeans and a dark short-sleeved shirt, a black cap pulled down low over his forehead which Wooyoung belatedly realizes as the cap he bought for the older for his birthday years ago. When he arrived at the house, he was shocked to realize that San looks not like a rock star or a runaway boyfriend, but like a young dad. The raven’s got another large cup of iced americano in his hand and he brought Wooyoung one, too, sweating pleasantly in his hand.

Wooyoung raises his eyebrows. “About?”

“I don’t know,” he says, taking over as the younger steps away from the swing set. They’ve been trading back-and-forth for nearly half an hour, steady like a metronome. Haneul could swing for days, chubby baby legs kicking happily; she figured out clapping a few months ago, and every once in a while she smacks her hands together with some kind of baby glee. “This. Me.”

The blond shakes his head. “I haven’t changed my mind about you.”

San snorts. “Ouch.”

“San-ah—” he breaks off, huffing a little. “I’m trying, you know?”

“I know”

They push in silence, patient. The sun glares. “What was the best place you visited?” Wooyoung asks finally, not so much because he wants to know—it’s almost safer not to—but because he can’t imagine what else to ask him and the quiet shreds his nerves. There’s a map of the world stenciled in bright paint on the back of a car passing by. Wooyoung silently wonders if small things like that will ever stop making him sad about everything he missed out on. “What was your favorite?”

San glances at him once, like he’s surprised, and then thinks a moment. “Probably Seoul,” he decides eventually. “You would really like it there.”

Wooyoung swallows his surprise at the older’s answer and hums a little. “Would I now.”

“Yeah, Woo. I think you would. The big city….it matches your energy.”

The younger closes his eyes for a moment. It’s almost too cruel for San to outright say that, knowing what his plans were. But the black-haired boy was no idiot, and the look he gives Wooyoung at the moment says it all. He’s pushing him.

“Out,” Haneul says suddenly, cutting off the tension between them, and San let out a dimpled smile.

“Out?” he repeats.

“Out!”

“Okay, then. Out it is.” He lifts her from the swing and sets her on the ground; she toddles happily toward the sandbox, quick and unsteady. Her shoes leave squeaky sounds everywhere she steps. “My mom says it’s been good for her,” he tells Wooyoung. “Haneul, I mean, having all her grandparents around, and you, and—” He smiles, a little shyly. “She says she’s really smart.”

Well, that surely got the younger’s attention. “Your mother said that?” he asks, disbelieving—Haneul’s smart all right, but if it has anything to do with the keen interest shown by her grandparents, Wooyoung would jump in front of a train gladly. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah.” San looks suddenly uncomfortable, like he thinks he’s misstepped—it’s not an expression Wooyoung remembers from back when they were together, him so sure of himself all the time. “Why, is that not … ?”

It boggles him a little, though not as much as you’d think. Hyejin’s probably pulling out every stop she can think of to get San to stick around this time, and if that means convincing him that everybody gets along great around these parts, that they’re all some kind of modern, blended family—well, then, so be it. Still, for some reason Wooyoung doesn’t have it in him to give her away: It feels like a lot of work for nothing, on top of which there’s some small part of him hoping it will work and that San will stay.

The blond shrugs. “No, she’s definitely something alright,” He nods at Haneul, who’s yelling “Mama” on top of her lungs from the edge of the sandbox. “Here I come, babygirl!”

San looks at him like he’s not totally buying what Wooyoung’s selling; he doesn’t push him on it, though. “So, hey,” he says instead, as they follow Haneul on a tour of the playground, sun bleaching white on the back of her neck. She squats down to grab a handful of sand and almost loses her balance, and they both reach out a steadying hand at the same time. “Are you still writing?”

Wooyoung lets out a laugh before he can stop it, a low angry cackle escapes him. He tries not to feel bitter. It doesn’t always work. “No, not really.” he tells the older.

San frowns. “That’s too bad.”

“It’s fine,” he replies, hoping he’ll drop it, but apparently one Choi San could never take a hint.

“Why’d you stop?”

“ _Because_.” Wooyoung shrugs and digs some sunscreen out of his bag for the baby. It’s possible this isn’t even the real answer, but at the moment it’s the best he can do. “You can’t be a travel writer if you’ve never gone anywhere.”

San takes some time to absorb that. With the cap, it’s kind of hard to see his face. “Fair enough,” he says after a minute, and he doesn’t ask any questions after that. Instead, he squats down in the sand and digs in.

  
  
  
  


When they get home, Hongjoong is fixing himself a snack in the kitchen, leftover chicken and rice from the other night, skinless like Seonghwa always makes for him. “Hi,” Wooyoung says, putting Haneul in her chair and pushing her sweat-dampened hair off her face. 

His father nods at him, impassive. His blood pressure medications are lined up along the counter. 

“We were at the park,” he begins telling him.

“So I heard.” He nods again.

“With San,” the younger continues.

“So I heard.” He nods a third time.

 _Oh for goodness sake_ , Wooyoung almost snaps. Instead he takes a deep breath, steadying. “All right,” he says, feigning a calm tone. With the exception of Seonghwa, none of them were very emotional in the family. Still, his father can out-silence anybody, even him. “Can we just … address the fact that this is happening?”

“And what’s that?”

That makes him mad. “You _know_ what,” he says, tone getting sharper. “Him _being_ here? Any of it.”

Hongjoong sighs. “Wooyoung, I don’t really see that there’s anything to talk about. You know how I feel. You make your own choices. Do what you want.” he opens the newspapers to the international news section. “There’s food,” he adds, without looking up.

“Okay,” Wooyoung says finally, opening the refrigerator. “Just … okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that was a lot 😐 At least there’s more woosan interactions 🥰🥰 
> 
> On a sidenote I really hope yall are not angry at how Woo’s behaving and find him like annoyingly bratty or something(?) I mean he’s not being difficult for no reason, you know what I’m saying? He’s been hurt the most...  
> So yeah just wanna clear this up 😬❤️
> 
> Sooo what do you think?


	6. Chapter 6 - Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorryyy for taking a while to get this out, and with a filler too. I apologise if you find this boring or anything but I'll try to squeeze out the next few chapters super quickly now since I'm finally on semester break 🥳🥳🥳🥳
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy this one!

Daehyun had been drunk, was the news that spread through school the week it happened, blood alcohol level way over the legal limit for an adult, never mind that Daehyun was eighteen years old. Grief counselors set up shop in the office. They sat through a mandatory assembly about the dangers of drunk driving; kids pinned purple ribbons to the straps of their backpacks. Apparently Kim Minsoo even got questioned by the cops.

It was two whole weeks later, on a Sunday, and raining. Wooyoung kept waiting to cry.

He camped out in bed from the time they got home from church until Seonghwa knocked on his door just before the dinner rush. “Sweetheart, that’s enough,” he said, hitting the switch and filling the room with tepid yellow light. “You gotta get up.”

“I’m sleeping,” the younger muttered into the pillow, even though he clearly wasn’t. He’d been hidden under the quilt for the past few weeks wide awake, tracing the wobbly line of a crack in the plaster ceiling and hearing footsteps up and down the stairs.

“Jongho says you’re on the schedule for tonight.”

“Jongho’s a filthy liar.”

Wooyoung heard Hongjoong pause in the doorway. “Leave him be, Hwa. I can call somebody to fill in.”

“Hongjoong—” he began, ready to fight him. Seonghwa probably thinks Wooyoung was freaking out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wooyoung said, throwing off the quilt. “I’ll get up.”

“Are you sure?” his father was unconvinced. The younger wondered if he was thinking about his mother, about funeral flowers and headstones and lives cut short too soon. He briefly entertained the notion of asking his father. They hardly ever talked about his mom.

“Sure,” he lied instead, heaving himself up off the mattress. “I’ll meet you outside in five.”

“He’s worried about you,” Seonghwa said after Hongjoong left, opening his closet and reaching for his work pants. He throws the pair over to the younger and goes to grab his white button up.

Wooyoung swung his feet over the side of the bed and shrugged. “And you’re not?”

“ _ I _ am waiting for you to talk to me, Woo. But if you don’t want to—”

“I have to get dressed,” I interrupted, “if you want me to go to work.”

“Watch your tone,” Seonghwa scolded, tossing the white shirt in his direction. He’d asked Wooyoung three times what had happened the night of the accident, where he’d been, why he’d lied and what he was doing with San to begin with. Seonghwa probably thought that maybe they’d both been at the party themselves and knew something he wasn’t saying. The younger couldn’t bear to tell him that the truth was a million times worse. He sighs before adding, “Fine, have it your way. But you might want to wash up before you go.”

Wooyoung frowned and rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m just trying to move things along, Woo.”

The younger didn’t say anything to that before moving to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

  
  
  
  


The restaurant was packed, as expected on Sunday evening, the heat of summer overcoming the air-conditioning, sweat pooling in the creases of his elbows. San was absent behind the bar. “Hey Wooyoung,” his dad greeted him instead, pulling pint glasses from the dishwasher. Junho was tall and solid, had a quick smile and a temper to match. He flipped up the hatch and came towards the younger, sling an arm around his shoulders. “You alright?”

Wooyoung nodded, extricated himself as politely as he could manage. He really didn’t feel like being touched. “I’m okay,” he lied to him. In all seriousness, all he wanted was for nobody to talk to him for the foreseeable future, to curl himself up into the smallest of balls and disappear.

The night melted by, the younger delivered order after order of and smiled insincerely at dozens of customers, losing himself in the hum and clatter of forks on plates and the steady one-two step of the band set up by the bar. It was going pretty well until one moment when he rounded a corner and slammed into one of the waitresses, sending a full tray of plates crashing to the tile floor.

It was only a couple of dishes, broken china the busboys could take care of in under a minute, but it was enough to completely undo him. His hands were shaking as he hurried toward the patio, squeezing past the line for the toilet. His heart was a trembling snare inside his chest.  _ Why did you think you could do this? _ He wondered desperately.

Suddenly he saw Jongho materializing behind him. He probably saw the ruckus and came to catch his older brother, catching his arm as he asked, “What’s wrong?” Wooyoung really, really didn’t want to talk.

“It’s too hot in here, I can barely take it. Patio open?” he muttered, brushing past the younger.

“It’s raining,” he warned even as he stepped back. Wooyoung suspected he was afraid of him, too.

“It’s always raining. I’ll be fine.”

Wooyoung left Jongho behind and pushed through the double doors. The back patio was so silent, deserted owing to the rain, which, he realized now as he stood beneath it, could barely be called rain. He took a long deep breath and tried to calm his trembling hands. His frantic heart had almost slowed before he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Ah!” he yelped when he saw the older, sitting with his head bent and elbows on his knees. He backed away so fast he almost tripped.

San glanced up with the barest flicker of interest, stared like he didn’t know who the hell the younger was. Wooyoung had seen him that morning at the funeral and the blankness of his expression had intrigued him. Even close up, there was no way to tell what the taller was thinking.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung blurted out immediately, over his shoulder as he turned to run away from the place forever, or probably just for tonight. Both of them hadn’t talked since the scene at the hospital. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what they’d possibly say. “N-nobody told me you were out here. I didn’t—Sorry.”

“No,” San said, not exactly in an amicable tone. “You’re fine. Stay.”

Wooyoung stopped and looked at him. He was still wearing his clothes from that morning, gray tie hanging loose from his neck. In church he’d kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—I should really just—”

“I mean it.” He glanced at him sideways. “Don’t look so scared, Wooyoung. I’m not going to hurt you.”

God, that wasn’t what Wooyoung was afraid of at all. What scared him the most was that he was still capable of feeling the things he felt for San after everything that had happened. What scared him was that his best friend was gone. San was the one person in the world who could maybe understand that, the one person who knew what they’d both done, and for a second he almost slipped up and told him everything: why Daehyun and him had stopped being friends to begin with, how he’d wanted him for so long. In the end, he stayed silent in true Jung Wooyoung fashion and chickened out instead. 

“I’m not,” he continued with the lie he’s had going on all day, shaking his head and frowning his brows like even the idea of it was ridiculous.

San snorted at that. He scooted over a bit and made room. “Prove it,” he said, slightly raising his eyebrows.

“I … Fine.” Annoyed and unprepared, Wooyoung crossed the expanse of patio between them and perched carefully on the edge of the deck. San smelled faintly of cologne and sweat and the air was warmer near him, like his body gave off more heat than normal. “Here I am.”

“Here you are.” San was holding a half-empty green bottle, and offered it to the younger without looking him in the face. “You working?”

Wooyoung took the cool glass from him, wrapping his hands around it and hoping the older wouldn’t notice if he didn’t actually drink any of it. There was a strange feeling in his chest that he cannot seem to get rid of, that’s been scraping in the walls inside his skin. 

“Yeah...Well, sort of. I just broke a bunch of plates.”

San raised his eyebrows. “On purpose?” he asked.

“No.”

“No,” he repeated, looking at him finally, smiling a small, languid smile the younger had seen a hundred times before. “I guess not.”

San sighed. Wooyoung waited. They sat quiet as death and just as still and listened to the wasps as they sang above both of their heads. 

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


San pretty much disappeared the summer after Daehyun died, skulking around bars on the rowdier side of the city and getting into fights. In June he almost got arrested in a street violence charge, in which he claimed self defence. In July, the older had wound up with a broken hand. In August he finally mentioned to his parents that, by the way, he had zero intention whatsoever of shipping off to college like he was supposed to, which, while not exactly a revelation to anybody at home, had Junho and Hyejin practically furious and turned the restaurant into a backdrop for all kinds of huge Choi family drama.

“His dad flipped the hell out,” Jongho told him on the ride home one night, the rain a steady patter on the windshield, the wipers a rhythmic swoosh. If it’s gossip, then Jongho’s the guy to look for. His brother really couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. “Said he had to move out of the house if he didn’t go to school. They dropped a  _ lot _ of money on his tuition deposit.”

“That’s what I figured.” The Chois were richer than them, for sure, but not rich enough that things like college deposits didn’t matter. Still, Wooyoung suspected Hyejin would probably be more upset than anyone else: San was, after all, the one living soul she could never judge or think badly of. Even if she’d never admit it to anyone, he could only imagine how much San’s apparent inability to commitment got under her skin.

It got under Wooyoung’s, too, obviously, but it wasn’t like he was going to say that out loud. It wasn’t like it mattered anyways.

The college thing sort of made sense to him, though. Even before everything happened, Wooyoung remembered thinking how odd it was that he was headed to University of Ulsan, just like every other senior in the state—how pedestrian, as if somebody like San would settle for a lifestyle so mundane and predetermined. He should have been haunting cafés in Seoul, playing open mics and busking in the vibrant streets of Hongdae, slouching around looking beautiful and waiting to get discovered.

Or, probably traveling the world with some girl who was into that kind of thing.

Whatever.

“So,” Wooyoung said, glancing at Jongho out of the corner of his eye. “Where’s he going to live?”

Jongho shrugged. “With some friends in the city, I think. Junho was all pissed off about that, too, because apparently you can, like, smell the meth cooking all up and down that street.”

“Sounds very attractive.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Did he say why he’s not going?”

“I dunno. He’s pretty screwed up, I guess.” Here his brother hesitated, glancing at Wooyoung nervously. They didn’t talk very much about Daehyun in the house. It felt like everyone was a little bit afraid of what he might do if they brought him up. Three months in the ground and it was almost like he’d never existed in the first place, like maybe he’d only ever been Wooyoung’s imaginary friend. “Because of everything that happened.”

“Right.” He swallowed the sudden thickness in his throat. “Well,” Wooyoung tries a bright tone, “He’ll come around when he wants to.”

  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


One thing San definitely wasn’t doing was showing up for his shifts at the restaurant, which is why Wooyoung was so surprised when he came in to work the dinner shift one day in September to find the older in all his glory mixing a drink behind the bar.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a rag and wiping a spill from the glossy surface, barely looking up. “Your dad said to come find him when you got in.”

“Do you still work here?” Wooyoung blurted, his backpack slipping from his shoulder. He was completely used to not seeing him anymore by this point, used to the notion that they were never going to talk about anything: that he was the only one spending the past and next few months in a sinkhole of guilt and confusion and sadness, all before he was going to leave. For a second he thought of that night in the parking lot, the taste of chocolate ice cream and the feeling of San’s fingers on his neck.

_ You kissed me, _ Wooyoung thought as he looked at San.  _ You kissed me and then Daehyun died _ . It almost felt like Daehyun was sitting at the bar in front of him, sharp chin cradled in one skinny hand—both of them watching San just like they used to, back when watching San never felt like something that hurt.

Now the older tilted his head, lips quirking. “It’s nice to see you, too,” he said, snapping him back to the present. Just like that, Daehyun was gone.

“That’s not what I meant, San-ah.” Wooyoung blushed. “It’s just … you know. Been a while.”

“I guess so.” He rattled the shaker a couple of times, poured its contents over ice and added a couple of mint leaves for garnish. San had been tending the bar at the restaurant since the start of high school; he could have mixed drinks in his sleep. “You miss me?”

“No,” He said immediately. “I mean—I don’t know.”

Wooyoung picked up his bag, ready to go find his father, but San wasn’t finished. “I saw you the other day, in your car, by the flea market.”

The younger blinked. “What were you doing at the flea market?”

“I wasn’t at the flea ma—I had band practice,” he said, as if Wooyoung was saying something amusing and ridiculous. “Our drummer lives over there.”

“How do you play piano with a broken hand?” Wooyoung asked him, and San grinned wryly.

“It’s not broken anymore, cutie.” The older nodded for him to sit down on an empty stool and, once he did, slid some snacks down in his direction. Wooyoung glanced at the clock above the bar to see that he had a couple of minutes before he needed to punch in.

“Is that what you’ve been doing instead of coming to work, then? Playing with your band?” 

The shorter asked carefully.

“You mean as opposed to pursuing higher education?”

Wooyoung shrugged. “As opposed to … anything else.”

“I guess,” San said. “I don’t know. We play at that high end club in the city sometimes.” He raised his eyebrows like a dare. “You should come.”

That particular club was pretty famous for its involvement in the underground business. Just last week it got ambushed by the police. No wonder Junho was so enraged. “Why don’t you ever play here?” He asked instead.

San snorted like that was hilarious. “My father would love that for sure.”

“Why? Do you suck that bad?”

He laughed at that. “Hey! We’re freaking awesome, okay.”

“I’m sure you are.”

A guy at the end of the bar ordered a drink so San stood up and reached for a bottle on the top shelf, shirt riding up his rib cage to reveal a small tattoo winding above the waistband of his jeans, a curling hourglass symbol. “Did that hurt?” Wooyoung asked as he scooped ice into a rocks glass.

“What?”

The younger made a vague gesture. “On your back.”

“Oh. Nah.” San handed the guy his drink and leaned over the bar like he was going to tell a secret. Wooyoung detected the faint scent of freshly grounded coffee, glad at least one thing hasn’t changed. “I’m really manly.”

“Right,” he answered, leaning in a little bit himself without meaning to. “Obviously.”

He tapped the bar twice, like a rhythm, and straightened up. “What about you, Woo? You got tattoos nobody knows about?”

Wooyoung was opening his mouth to answer when Hongjoong came through the swinging doors at the far end of the restaurant. He stopped when he caught them at the bar. 

“Wooyoung,” he said sharply—they’d never talked about what he’d been doing with San that night at the hospital, and one look at his face said he didn’t like what he saw at all. “You know I don’t like you sitting up there when we have customers. Come on.”

“Sorry,” Wooyoung quickly said, scrambling down from the barstool. His skin felt hot. He didn’t look at San as he headed back to the office, two minutes late to punch in.

  
  
  
  
  


************

  
  
  
  
  


“Aw, no fair,” San said, staring directly at Wooyoung’s plate full of warm pancakes. “Cook made you pancakes?”

The younger nodded happily, digging into the fluffy stack. “He loves me.”

“And really, who can blame him?” San hooked a pair of wine glasses onto the rack above his head. Then he reached across the bar, took the fork out of his hand, and helped himself to a big bite.

“Oh, come on! Go get your own.” Wooyoung pouted.

“Yours are better,” he said, mouth full.

Wooyoung fought back a smile at San’s puffed out cheeks. “Not all of us want your germs, you know.”

“Wooyoung,” he replied slyly, handing back the fork. “You already have my germs.”

The shorter froze for a second, and then he started to laugh. It was the closest they’d ever come to talking about it—the only indication San had given him that he even remembered it had ever happened at all—and hearing him say it loosened some knot that was pressing on the muscles in his chest. Wooyoung giggled like a maniac for a minute, absurdly relieved, crazy hyena giggles, like he hadn’t laughed in a year. “Shut up,” He managed, once he finally caught his breath.

“There you go, Woo.” San grinned, revealing two perfectly straight rows of white teeth. 

“You’re so serious all the time, I swear. I crack you and it makes my damn night.”

“I do what I can.”

“Mm-hmm.” San wandered over to the piano and made himself comfortable on the bench. “Any requests, beautiful?” He asked, clever hands already splayed over the keys. He started with a few quick scales, flew through the opening of a song that was one of Jongho’s favorites, then launched into some jazz beat that Wooyoung knew his father must have taught him. 

_ Is there anything you’re not good at? _ he wanted to ask him, but the younger simply smiled instead. “Play whatever you want. I’ll just listen.”

“I wish everyone was that easy. Come sit.”

Wooyoung slid onto the piano bench. Somewhere in the back of his head he thought of the old pictures he’d seen of his parents at home, the dark gaze of his mother fixed on his father’s young face as he played on this very piano.

“You should grow your hair longer more often,” San said. “It looks nice like that.”

Wooyoung laughed lightly, but San just shook his head. “I’m serious,” he said, still playing. His voice went low and quiet. “I noticed you, you know? Even before last spring I did.”

_ Before last spring you were dating my dead best friend _ , the younger thought but didn’t say. Instead he said unbelievingly, “That so?”

“Yeah.” San shrugged. “You’re just … different.”

“Different,” Wooyoung repeated. He thought of Kim Minsoo, of the fact that at this very moment, everybody else in his grade was at Homecoming except for him. He’s growing so tired of being different. “What, from Daehyun?”

That was the wrong thing to say. San kept his fingers on the keys, didn’t miss a chord, but his whole body tensed. 

“Sorry,” the younger quickly said, backpedaling. He hadn’t even meant to bring him up, not overtly—Daehyun was just on his mind  _ so  _ much, still, like the six months since the car crash hadn’t done anything to dull how much he missed him. You’d think losing him almost a full year before he actually died would have cushioned the blow, somehow; instead he just felt it more and more. “I shouldn’t have said that—I just meant—”

“It’s fine,” San said curtly, but for the first time all night Wooyoung didn’t like the sound of his voice. He briefly wondered how much he thought about Daehyun. He wondered if he thought about him at all.

“Okay, but—”

“I said it’s okay, Wooyoung-ah.”

They both sat in awkward silence for a moment until Jongho emerged from the kitchen. “Taking requests?” he asked brightly, then noticed their stony faces and looked, sort of accusingly, at San. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! Everything’s great.” Wooyoung hurriedly said, his tone shrill and fake even to his own ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism, comments and kudos are HIGHLY appreciated ♡♡♡


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